


A Dubious Affair

by SoftObsidian74



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Challenge Response, Consensual Non-Consent, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Don't Try This At Home, Dubious Consent, F/M, HP: EWE, Infidelity, Rape Fantasy, Rape Roleplay, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Two Endings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-02
Updated: 2013-11-02
Packaged: 2017-12-25 10:10:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 55,729
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/951853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoftObsidian74/pseuds/SoftObsidian74
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s not Hermione’s fault she’s cheating on her husband Ron - Harry makes her do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Forced Relations

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by DynoNugget, Emily Waters, & Dee Michelle
> 
> This fan fiction was inspired by a birthday story written for me by DynoNugget (Completely Taken), and it is also a response to a challenge made by Reddi.
> 
> **Author’s Note:** While this story does not contain actual rape or non-consensual sex, there will be several encounters involving simulated non-consensual sex and/or rape-role playing between two consenting adults. Also, there will be at least one encounter that will involve dubious consent. There are two endings to this story. One ending will have separate warnings, and you will have advanced notice before reading on, so you can choose not to read it if you disapprove of the warning.
> 
> Disclaimer: The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.
> 
> [](http://imgur.com/Cr1a00K)  
> Banner by TriosPleasure

It was another couples’ night out. Hermione stared at Ron with loathing as he stuffed his face with treacle tart again. He washed it down with butterbeer and smacked his lips loudly before looking up at her and smiling. 

Disgusting. 

She looked up at Harry and inwardly sighed. He was sitting next to Ron, across from his wife, Ginny, who was gabbing away about how she wanted to decorate their new home. 

Newlyweds! 

It wasn’t that Hermione thought that newlyweds weren’t romantic or adorable; she just didn’t think that Harry and Ginny were. It would have been all right if it were her and Harry making those plans, but it hadn’t worked out that way.

And so here she was, married to Ron, trying not to gag at the sight of him chewing with his mouth wide open as he looked around for a third helping of dessert.

Harry’s eyelids became heavy as he listened to Ginny talk about the color scheme she wanted for the living room. He glanced up at Hermione and gave her a sad smile. Hermione returned it with a sympathetic one of her own.

They knew they were stuck. 

There had been so many expectations placed on both of them after the war. Once Ron had kissed her, she knew that they would be married, even if it wasn’t right away. That first kiss had cemented a future that everyone had already anticipated for both of them, and the pressure to commit to it fully only gained momentum as time went by.

And now that she was finally married, she felt trapped. Not that Ron was a total loser; he was loyal, somewhat attentive, and a good provider, and he even made her laugh sometimes. 

But he wasn’t Harry.

And Harry was never hers to begin with; he was her best friend, and he had already been promised to Ginny. It was no secret that Molly Weasley had been making detailed plans for Ginny’s wedding to Harry only a year after they had buried Fred. 

Everyone knew that doting on her daughter was Molly Weasley’s way of keeping her mind off of the son she lost. They all indulged her obsessive wedding planning in hopes that it would bring normalcy back to everyone. And so, long before they even became engaged, Harry and Ginny’s future together had already been planned. 

Initially, Harry had welcomed it; he had longed for stability, a real family of his own, and the chance to live life as a normal person instead of celebrated hero. It was the perfect life he had always dreamed of… or so he thought.

As he listened to his new wife drone on about curtains and palettes for a living room he hadn’t even had a chance to settle into, he realized that besides a love for the Weasley clan, their shared love for Quidditch, the experience of the Chamber of Secrets, and Dumbledore’s Army, he and Ginny didn’t have a lot in common. He had basically married someone who reminded him of everything he was trying to forget. 

Hermione also shared many of the bad experiences that he wanted to leave in the past, but she was also a part of the memories he never wanted to forget.

He glanced at Hermione and felt his stomach flutter. That had been happening a lot lately whenever he was near her; he hadn’t noticed how beautiful she really was until Ron had asked her to marry him. 

Now each time he saw her, he found himself more in awe that he had missed the obvious attraction. He quickly looked back at Ginny and tried to cover the heat rising in his face. 

“You want to come back and hang out for a bit?” Ron asked with his mouth full.

Harry and Hermione exchanged a furtive glance and nodded, while Ginny appeared annoyed that her brother had interrupted her monologue about the importance of choosing the right curtains.

“Sure Ron, but we have to get back straight away; there’s so much to do. We have a full day of shopping to do tomorrow,” she said, smiling back at Harry. He was doing everything he could to not roll his eyes at the idea of looking at curtains and wallpaper patterns all day.

They all Apparated back to Ron and Hermione’s living room, catching up with each other. Hermione and Ginny discussed a new Ministry law that Hermione was lobbying for, concerning better treatment for house-elves, while Ron and Harry discussed their new supervisor. Both were now Aurors, but working different shifts, so they hardly ever got to see each other at work.

This was becoming a part of the routine; after couples' night a local pub, they’d all come back to Ron and Hermione’s home for small talk and tea. It was nice, cozy, and absolutely boring. 

Both Hermione and Harry were both secretly harboring the fear that it was the beginning of a lifetime of dull routine within the confines of their mundane and predictable marriages. 

Hermione could tell that Ginny was not really interested in house-elf legislation because her eyes had become glazed over despite trying hard to look attentive. She glanced up from her conversation with Ginny. Ron was talking eagerly about his latest assignment, and Harry was listening with fascination…at least he seemed to be.

Was it her imagination, or did she just catch Harry staring at her legs?

No, that had to be her imagination. 

Hermione felt her pulse quicken. Harry looking at her legs would be a right bit more exciting than talking to Ginny about her latest advocacy case. 

Keeping her eyes on Ginny, Hermione shifted in her seat, giving him a better view of her long, tanned legs. 

This time, she saw it. Harry looked down and then glanced back up at her before focusing again on Ron.

This could prove to be fun. Hermione suppressed a smirk and asked Ginny a question about what color pattern she wanted for her kitchen, which she knew would draw out a long, involved answer. Ginny got excited and started talking animatedly about her plans for the kitchen. Hermione slowly uncrossed her legs, flashing a bit of knicker before recrossing them and shifting the other way to expose more thigh. 

And then Harry did something bold. With a quick discreet glance at Hermione, he ran his tongue over his bottom lip as if he had just seen something tasty he wanted to sink his teeth into.

Hermione quickly glanced at Ginny, who had now started talking to Ron about how their mum was being a pain and interfering with her plans for decorating the house. 

Ron was shaking his head, recalling his own frustrations with dealing with his mother’s suggestions and insistence in helping out during the first few months after his marriage to Hermione. 

“I’ll go make some tea, be right back,” Hermione said, rising, giving Harry and Ginny a brief smile.

“You never were good with making mine. I’ll get my own,” Harry said rising.

“Oh Harry, you’re so rude,” Ginny scowled playfully, smacking his bum before he walked away.

Once inside the kitchen there was a strained silence between the two of them. Avoiding eye contact with Harry, Hermione busied herself by going over to the sink to fill the kettle. 

“Lovely dinner,” she said. She couldn’t understand why she was so nervous all of a sudden.

“Yeah, it was all right I suppose. Didn’t quite fill me though,” Harry said with weariness.

“Oh? You had a full plate,” Hermione said, putting the Muggle kettle Ron hated so much on the stove. He always said it reminded him of his father’s endless pile of Muggle collectibles that served no real practical purpose. Harry never made fun of her nostalgia for Muggle appliances and artifacts. Then again, Harry hardly had any of Ron’s faults.

There was no reason for her to be making tea the Muggle way, but she had convinced herself that it tasted definitively better when brewed that way. It had nothing to do with the fact that it prolonged her time alone with Harry… no, that was not an acceptable reason. 

“Yeah, but it wasn’t what I wanted, so I didn’t eat much,” Harry said, coming closer to her. She could almost feel him; only a few more steps and he would be touching her and then…

Hermione stiffened and walked away from the counter, turning to go to the refrigerator to get some leftover pie and some milk for the tea.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Are you still hungry?” she asked, trying to keep her voice steady.

“Has that ever happened to you Hermione?” he asked her softly.

“What?” Hermione asked as she bent over to look for the pie, cradling the milk in her arm.

“You know, you’re starving for something, but you’re not sure what,” he said, his voice getting closer to her. 

Hermione stilled, then suddenly stood up straight, turning around to see Harry just inches from her, his eyes burning into hers. She cleared her throat and walked past him swiftly towards the counter.

“I suppose,” she said with a false nonchalant tone as she busied herself with putting tea leaves into the infuser and selecting four mugs. 

Harry turned around slowly, walking back towards her. 

“Then you see something on the menu that looks perfect, something that will satisfy your hunger,” he said as he walked up behind her and placed his arms on both sides of her, pinning her into the counter.

Hermione could feel her heartbeat quicken and her body tense. His breath was hot in her ear. 

“But then when you take a bite, you find out it’s not what you really wanted, that you were really craving something else,” he whispered as he rested his head against the back of hers before reaching up with one hand to push her hair to the side. Hermione tried to swallow, not knowing what to say or to do.

“Uh, yes, I suppose so, Harry,” she said in a shaky voice.

“You know what’s worse?” he asked, pressing his chest more firmly against her back.

“What?” Hermione choked out.

“When the person you’re eating with, say, your best friend, gets their meal,” he said as he moved his mouth from her ear to her neck and began to talk against her skin, leaving wet trails with every word.

“And you realize they actually got the dish you were really craving, but you didn’t know it until you saw them with it,” he said as he began to grind his erection into her.

Hermione completely froze for a moment and inwardly cursed herself for enjoying the sensation of feeling her best friend’s hard cock against her arse. He was well endowed, certainly bigger than Ron, and naughty images of how he could pleasure her with it danced around in her head. She began to move against him to increase the friction.

“But then it’s too late, you know? You’ve already ordered, so you feel like you have to eat it anyway, like you’re stuck with it, even though now you know exactly what you want,” he finished as he nibbled on her ear and continued to push her into the counter.

Hermione could feel herself shaking. What was going on? This was her best friend, and they were supposed to be just making tea, right? She was a married woman, and he was married as well, to her husband’s sister. They were family now, for Merlin’s sake!

But it felt so damn good. 

Harry continued to rub his erection forcibly against her arse, gripping the counter on both sides of Hermione, pushing her as far over the counter as he could, his hands on either side of her holding to the counter

Hermione couldn’t help but grind her hips more fervently in response. She bit her lip in an effort not to moan as his mouth swept over her hair. When she heard his breath become ragged and desperate, she bucked back and turned around.

“No, Harry, no,” she whispered fiercely. “We can’t do this!”

Harry backed up, looking down at the floor in shame. 

“I’m sorry, Hermione. I don’t know what came over me, geez,” he said, rubbing his forehead and backing up some more. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” he asked himself before turning his back to her.

Hermione reached out and put her hands on his shoulders.

“Harry, it’s okay. You’ve been under a lot of stress, with the new house and everything. I know you would never intentionally hurt Ginny, just like I would never hurt Ron.”

Harry turned around, looking down into her eyes and nodded. “I’m so sorry, Hermione.” 

Hermione could feel him shaking and gave him a hug to let him know she forgave him.

When she pressed her body against him, Harry tensed and then leaned into her embrace, hugging her back tightly. For some reason she didn’t want to let go, and so she shifted on her feet to open her arms wider. Harry took it as a signal to press himself tighter against her, backing her against the counter once more.

“Harry,” she whispered.

Harry didn’t respond; instead he held onto Hermione tighter, sliding his hands down from her back to her hips, pressing her harder into the counter. Hermione felt herself unconsciously grinding into him again even as she was pushing him away with her hands. It was futile, though; Harry was strong. 

And feeling and knowing that her strength was useless against his only aroused her more. 

“Harry, please, they’re right outside. We can’t!”

Harry reluctantly broke away from her, backing up out of breath and adjusting his erection, staring down at it as if trying to will it to go down.

“I have to make the tea,” she said matter-of-factly, fixing her hair and trying to get some composure.

“Of course, I’ll help,” Harry said almost apologetically.

“NO! Take the pie in,” she admonished.

Harry looked down at his erection and back up at Hermione with a helpless expression.

Hermione shook her head. “Oh, all right, I’ll take it in. You bring out the tea.” 

She made to move past him to pick up the pie, when Harry blocked her, causing her to run into his chest.

She looked up at him, biting her lip, and shook her head.

“Harry, please, we can’t.”

“I know, I know. I just want to make sure that I didn’t just fuck up our friendship and make things incredibly awkward,” he said looking down at her with fear in his eyes.

“Well, no, and yes, but I forgive you,” she said looking back up at him with a smirk.

“It won’t happen again, I promise,” he said firmly.

“It won’t?” she asked with disappointment in her voice

“I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship or anything,” he said studying her reaction. 

“I don’t think you could ever do that, Harry,” she said with one eyebrow raised suggestively.

Harry lifted his head, considering her before speaking. “Or make you do something you don’t want to do,” he said with a question in his voice.

Hermione nodded. “Well, I’d never cheat on Ron, not unless it were forced upon me, but I know you’d never do that,” she said looking up at him coyly.

Harry stared down at her in shock, watching her eyes carefully. Was she saying what he thought she was? 

“Not unless you wanted me to,” he said softly. 

He drew closer still, bringing his lips down to touch hers when Ron called from the living room. 

“Hey guys, what’s taking so long?” 

“Hold your trousers, Ronald, the water just got done!” Hermione called back in annoyance, glancing up at Harry who was still watching her curiously.

“I’m fine now,” Harry said looking down, indicating the interruption had killed his erection.

Hermione nodded. “Good, then you can take the pie out, I’ll be out with tea shortly.”

“Okay, whatever you want, Hermione,” Harry said, looking at her pointedly.

Hermione stared up at Harry for a few more moments before turning her back to him and going to retrieve the kettle and a serving tray.

When Harry finally left the kitchen, she exhaled a breath she didn’t know she had been holding and told herself not to get her hopes up that Harry had understood that she had just given him permission to take her without ever having to ask.


	2. Consensual Misery

It was Saturday and Harry couldn't sit still.. Ginny had twisted his arm about sending out invites to her family and all of their closest friends for a house warming party. It was also another opportunity for her to show off their wedding photos, despite the fact that everyone they had invited had been at their wedding. 

He hadn’t seen Hermione since the last couples’ night and was feeling anxious about how to act around her. He had gone back and forth in his head many times about whether he had heard her correctly. He found the idea of just taking her anytime he wanted to extremely arousing. 

On the other hand, he also thought it was possible that he could have misinterpreted what she had said. He didn’t want to do anything that would make her uncomfortable around him, or worse, land him in Azkaban. 

Although he had always wanted to be more dominant in the bedroom, he knew that he could never approach Ginny with the proposition to engage in those sorts of games. Ginny was a bit of an old-fashioned girl when it came to sex; she preferred romance, kissing, cuddling, the missionary position and rarely anything else. 

Part of him couldn’t believe that he was actually considering cheating on his new wife, but then another part of him, the part that never liked playing by the rules, was greatly intrigued by possibility of taking things to another level with his best friend. 

He told himself that he would just have to play it by ear and keep his eyes open for any cues Hermione might give him before deciding whether to explore it.

He came downstairs after taking a shower and dressing to find Ginny doing some last minute tidying up. She turned around, looking him over with a concerned expression on her face.

“Oh Harry, didn’t you see the jumper I laid out for you?”

“Um, yeah, but this is my favorite,” he said looking down at his cherished, albeit worn, deep blue t-shirt. 

His frown deepened as he tried to contain his irritation. So Ginny didn’t think it was good enough for the party. That was fine, but she never gave any sign that she would go as far as to pick out his clothing for him. Then again, since they the wedding, he had noticed a lot of new things about Ginny. Lately she ran behind him picking up things and cleaning; he didn’t know she was such a neat freak. And it was becoming increasingly annoying how much she planned out every bit of free time they had together on the weekends, which made his days off more stressful than relaxing. 

“Yes, I know, but the other shirt brings out the green in your eyes. I spent a good deal of time looking for it, but I understand if you don’t want to wear it,” she said looking slightly hurt as she resumed wiping down the table.

“No, it’s fine, you know how hard it is for me to try new things. I’ll go right up and change now,” he conceded.

Her face lit up. “Okay, and don’t forget the matching socks, they’re right underneath.” 

Harry fought to suppress an annoyed groan as he turned around to climb the stairs once again.

*******

After changing, and coming down once more, he double-checked that there were enough chairs in the living room to accommodate everyone. There would be eleven guests total, with Charlie away on his latest dragon adventure in Denmark. 

One by one Neville and Luna, Hermione and Ron, Seamus and Dean, George, Fleur and Bill, Arthur and Molly Weasley arrived. There was a lot of good-natured pleasantries, smiling, and hugging going around as Harry ushered each of them to the living room. 

“Oh, I want a tour!” Mrs. Weasley said looking around once everyone had finally settled down to sit in the living room. 

Harry couldn’t help but smirk, knowing she had been in their home more than anyone else there and had already given considerable input on the décor of at least two rooms. 

“Oh, Mum, you practically decorated the living room and the bathrooms!” Ginny said coming in with a tray of hors d’ ouvres.

“Oh I know, but I want to see what you’ve done with the master bedroom and the guest room,” Molly said beaming at Ginny.

“Well, hold on, not yet. Harry and I will give everyone a proper tour after dinner,” she said setting the tray down before walking over to slide her hand around her husband’s waist.

Harry glanced around the room and saw Hermione shift uncomfortably in her seat before looking away. He turned his eyes back to his wife and gave her a smile.

“I don’t suspect they want us going into the bedroom, being newlyweds and all, it’s probably a bit of a mess,” George joked.

Everyone chuckled at that looking up at the couple knowingly.

“George! Harry and I have been quite busy doing _other_ things besides that,” she said blushing. 

_We’ve spent too much time doing other things._ Harry thought to himself.

He glanced again at Hermione and noticed she appeared fidgety .

“Well, who’s ready to eat? Dinner’s ready,” Harry said trying to shift the conversation quickly.

Everyone arose and filed into the dining room to sit. Harry was careful not to sit anywhere near Hermione, not trusting himself to look natural and at ease. 

He breathed a sigh of relief once everyone began eating and the conversation began to flow easily. The dinner was going smoothly, with everyone consumed in different discussions about the latest news, their jobs, vacation plans, and upcoming events. He purposefully avoided looking in Hermione’s direction, focusing intently on Ginny, Bill and Fleur. 

But when he couldn’t stand it any longer, he chanced looking in her direction, only to find that she caught his eyes immediately. They locked eyes and time seemed to freeze for Harry but then it was gone, and Hermione was staring down at her plate and then back up at Ron. However fleeting that look had been, he found himself semi-hard and considering what she had said that night. He forced himself to take a drink and turn his attention back to Ginny.

*******

After dinner and much goading from Mrs. Weasley, he led everyone on a tour of their home, starting with the ground level. He showed them around the kitchen, the living room, which everyone had already seen, and the bathroom. He pointed out some of the hand-crafted features he was particularly proud of doing himself.

“Harry, so you’re so good with your hands,” Hermione said smiling up at him. Harry blushed and mumbled a thank you before clearing his throat and leading them all upstairs. 

Once upstairs, Ginny took over, leading everyone through the guest bedroom and then to the master bedroom, which she was particularly proud of. Harry let her lead the way throughout and eventually he was tagging along with Hermione at the end of the group. Ron was near the front, engrossed in a conversation with Dean about their last Auror raid. 

As the group started filing out of the bedroom and back down stairs, Hermione tugged on Harry’s sleeve.

“Where’s the restroom again?” she asked. 

“There’s one in the bedroom,” Harry said, motioning to their private bathroom.

“Oh, don’t be silly, Harry, where’s the one for guests?” she asked looking up at him coyly.

“Oh… er… let me show you,” he said moving past her to walk on down the hall.

She followed him, and when he opened the door and extended his hand inside before turning, she gasped loudly. He turned back around to see what was the matter.

“What?” he asked.

“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed.

“You think so?” he asked a little surprised, after all, it was only a bathroom.

“Yes, the counter is gorgeous,” she said walking closer to inspect it. 

Harry shrugged. “If you say so.” 

“I love marble,” Hermione said, studying the surface in wonder, before biting her lip and looking up at Harry in the mirror. He was standing behind her watching her face in the reflection. They locked eyes again, and Harry held his breath waiting for her to say or do something that would set things into motion.

Hermione broke the gaze, looking back down at the counter. “It’s so resilient, no matter how much you mistreat it, it still retains its luster.”

“Uh yeah, I suppose that’s true,” he said hesitantly, not sure if that was a hint or something.

“And, uh, I love the feel of it against my skin,” she said in a shaky voice, looking back up at his reflection as she ran her hands over the surface. 

Harry nodded in understanding, and while she continued to inspect the counter, he walked over to the bamboo case where fresh washcloths, towels, and toiletries were stored. An idea came to him about how to take away her ability to speak in a way that may make her happy.

He grabbed a washcloth and then paused to examine it for a few moments, hardly believing what he was about to do before looking back up at Hermione’s face in the mirror. She caught his eyes again and froze as well, staring at him as he watched her. She seemed afraid to turn around. 

Twirling the washcloth in his hand nervously, Harry swallowed and then took a deep breath before closing the bathroom door, and locking it. 

Hermione turned around sharply on her heel,

“Harry—”

Harry grabbed her jaw roughly and squeezed.

“Open your mouth, Hermione,” he said firmly.

She looked at him shock, not really comprehending what he was playing at. 

“I said open you mouth, don’t make me tell you again,” he said with an edge in his voice she had only heard a few times in the past.

Hermione slowly opened her mouth, looking up at him in both excitement and apprehension.

“Wider,” he whispered, grabbing her jaw pushing her mouth open even more.

“That’s it,” he said, bringing the washcloth up to her mouth and slowing stuffing it in as much as it could fit. 

Hermione was visibly trembling and looking back at Harry as if he had gone mad but she didn’t make a move to resist or remove the washcloth. 

He turned her around so that she was facing herself in the mirror. Glancing up at her in the reflection, he gave her a smirk before pulling her arms behind her. Then he took out his wand and spelled her wrists together. 

In a not so gentle manner, he turned her back around to face him, looking down at her with a slightly amused expression.

“How am I doing so far?” he asked softly.

Hermione looked up at him in puzzlement before nodding her head slightly.

Taking it as a sign to continue, he lifted her up by the waist, hoisting her up onto the counter. Holding her in place, he leaned in to kiss her along her jaw line, moving down slowly to her neck. Hermione began to moan softly, and arched her chest forward as if begging for more contact. Harry fought the urge to just rip her shirt open and instead began to grope her breasts through her shirt. 

He could feel himself growing rock hard as she writhed underneath his touch. His kisses became more urgent and he began to nibble on her neck before remembering he couldn’t leave marks. 

Drawing back to look into her eyes, he slowly slid his hands down from her breasts down her slim waist to rest on her thighs. He started to caress them even as he began to spread them open. He reached up to her hips to pull her forward and the back of Hermione’s head hit the mirror with a thud and a soft muffled groan escaped her mouth. 

“Sorry,” he said, looking up at her in concern.

She nodded her head quickly both forgiving him and urging him to hurry up and get on with it.

With shaky hands, Harry pushed her skirt up to her waist, revealing lacy black knickers. His eyes briefly widened in surprise before turning darker with lust. Running his hands along her smooth tanned skin, he looked back up at her to find that she was watching him in anticipation. 

She began to squirm even more under his touch, giving him more courage to continue what he had started. He spread her legs further apart, and began to stroke higher up her thighs, until he reached the soaked center of her knickers. He let his fingers rest there for a moment before stroking her clit lightly through the material. She twisted her hips in an effort to feel more and he smiled at her reaction. 

Quickly pulling her knickers to the side with his hand, he slipped a finger into her wet heat. She moaned as he wiggled his finger around before pulling it almost out and slipping in a second. He added another and watched her eyes pop open briefly before closing as she began to grind herself onto them. 

Harry dipped his head down to kiss her along her inner thigh. Teasing her with his teeth, he alternated between kissing and biting the higher he went, until finally he reached at his intended target.

Hermione pushed her hips up to meet his mouth, and instead of giving her what she wanted, he pulled back and smacked her thigh sharply.

“Stay still or I’ll stop,” he said sternly.

She immediately stilled, her body heaving as she made an effort to calm down and breathe despite having her mouth stuffed. 

He flicked his tongue out, teasing her clit, eliciting another moan. Suddenly, deciding that he didn’t have much time to play around with, he stopped teasing and began to gently lick her folds before finally pushing his tongue as far into her as he could go. 

Despite his earlier warning, Hermione couldn’t help but to rotate her hips urging him to go deeper. This time, Harry allowed her to squirm over his tongue, and when he could not go any further, she closed her legs around his head tightly. 

He dug his nails into her thighs as he tightened his grip. He began pushing her legs farther apart until she was obscenely spread out on the counter, giving him enough headroom to twist so that he could work his mouth over her.

He continued to drive his tongue in and out of her, savoring every bit of her taste, smell, and wanting to taste her release. When his tongue began to go numb and he became aware that they had been away from the party far too long, he decided to switch his strategy to hasten her orgasm.

Moving his mouth over her clit, he began to suck gently at first, and then more firmly and urgently. Hermione’s moans grew louder as she bucked erratically against his mouth, finally screaming through her gag as she came into his mouth. He slurped up every trace of her climax until her thighs were quivering. 

Straightening up and licking his lips, he tried to take a mental picture of her face as he saw it in that moment.

Her head was resting against the mirror, her eyes fixed shut, and her expression was somewhere between total ecstasy and someone clinging on to the last moments of a really good dream. With her chest rising and falling rapidly, she slowly opened her eyes, staring at him in wonderment. He smiled up at her until they heard footsteps on the nearby staircase.

They both froze, looking at each other in horror.

“Harry!? Hermione?” Ron called. 

Harry’s eyes went wide and he took a big gulp.

“I’m in here, Ron! I’ll be out in a minute!” he called taking the washcloth out of Hermione’s mouth and using it to wipe his mouth.

“Have you seen Hermione?” he asked.

“Uh, no, kind of stuck right now,” he said in his best imitation of embarrassment.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that mate. Take your time.”

“Hey, Ron!”

“Yeah?”

“I think I remember Hermione saying she wanted to see the garden out back; did you check there?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t even know you guys had one. All right, see you soon then,” he said, his footsteps growing fainter as he descended the stairs.

Hermione stiffened. “Harry, I don’t think we should do this anymore,” she said firmly.

“You didn’t like it?” he asked, sounding hurt.

“Yes, of course I did. But, it doesn’t matter; we can’t do this!”

“But I thought you said—”

“Forget what I said! I can’t.”

Harry searched her eyes for something, anything that betrayed what she was saying but all he saw was a sad resignation. 

“I understand,” he said finally pulling away from her. He did a cleaning spell on himself and her and then helped her down off the counter. 

“I hope that you do,” she said more sharply than was necessary.

He turned her around to face the mirror again. “Finite Incantatem,” he said lifting the binding from her wrists.

Harry was looking at in the mirror with sadness in his eyes. She looked back at him in the reflection and shook her head. 

“Look, it’s obvious that neither one of us is particularly happy right now, but instead of doing the worst possible thing and cheating on Ron and Ginny, we should be working on finding a way to save our marriages.”

“Even when we know that maybe we shouldn’t be married to them? That this attraction we share can be so much more if we pursued it?” he asked looking at her pleadingly.

“Sometimes the grass just looks greener on the other side Harry,” she said with a sad pursed smile.

“Always the sensible one.”

“Well one of us needs to be,” she said turning around to face him.

“So that’s it then? We go on being unhappy with someone else knowing we’re both thinking about each other.”

“Yes, that’s how it has to be.”

Harry nodded his head slowly, turning to unlock the door and open it.

“I should go find Ginny. I’m sorry Hermione, I’m sorry I let it get this far,” he said looking back at her before walking out. 

As he walked down the hall and began to descend the stairs, he tried to convince himself that it was only his imagination that he heard Hermione say, “I’m not.”


	3. Dubious Intentions

It had been almost a month since Harry had spoken to Hermione. After the Potter’s housewarming party, Hermione had taken sick or had been too busy to participate in couples’ night. Harry had been keeping himself busy by burying himself in work, helping Ginny shop for the house, and visiting with friends. 

He tried to push the thought of Hermione out of his mind, but she was always there, in some way or another. Almost anything would spark the thought of her; whether it was a coffee shop filled with books he thought she’d fancy, or the latest news about the Ministry’s efforts in advancing house elves, he couldn’t stop thinking about her.

At the Ministry’s Auror reception for new recruits, an event that all Aurors were required to attend, Harry noticed that Ron seemed withdrawn and not his usual talkative self. When the training captain took the podium to congratulate the new class of Aurors, Ron stood up and walked outside. Harry discreetly got up to follow him and found him leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette. 

“How’s it going?” Harry asked hesitantly, a bit shocked to see him smoking.

“All right, I guess,” Ron replied looking up at the sky. His eyes were sad, and his general disposition was somber.

“That doesn’t sound good. What’s wrong? And since when did you take up smoking?”

“Oh, this? I just do it occasionally to take the edge off of things; it’s nothing,” Ron said.

“Hermione would kill you if she found out," Harry warned.

“Probably,” Ron said taking another drag.

Harry's brow furrowed as he stared at his friend. “Ron, what’s going on?”

“I don’t know, Harry, I’m not sure you’re the one I should be talking to anyway,” Ron said as he threw a sideways glance and took another drag. 

There were certain things that just seemed to be awkward topics for conversation, even with your best friend, and it was obvious that Harry was broaching one of those topics, still he pressed on.

“What do you mean?”

Ron took a deep breath. “Well, it sort of has to do with her.”

Panic bubbled up in Harry's stomach. “What is it? Is she all right?”

“Yeah, I mean, she’s not dying or anything like that,” Ron said.

“Well, what is it?” Harry demanded.

Ron shrugged. “Honestly, I really don’t know. I mean she’s sort of been out of it lately. We’ve been having some problems.”

“Well, what kind of problems?” Harry asked in near exasperation. 

“You know— _problems_ ,” Ron said, giving Harry a meaningful stare. 

“Oh," Harry said with raised eyebrows. 

“Yeah, see, I knew I shouldn’t have brought it up." Ron shook his head, his ears turning pink.

“It’s fine Ron, we’re all friends. I mean, I don’t need a play-by-play account of what’s going on in your sex life, but you can talk to me,” Harry said softly, trying to sound as non-judgmental as possible.

After several moments and a few more drags, Ron finally spoke. “Well, okay. It’s like she’s lost interest.”

Harry nodded to show understanding. “Have you talked to her?”

“Yeah, I have, and she just says she’s depressed and needs some time,” Ron said, irritation lacing his words.

“Depressed? About what?”

“That’s just it, she doesn’t even know,” Ron said balling his free hand into a fist.

“Well, Hermione is a hard worker," Harry offered. "Maybe she’s just stressed or tired.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Ron muttered.

They stood in silence for a few minutes. Harry was trying to think of the right words to say when Ron looked up at him. 

“I was thinking, you haven’t been around in a while, maybe you could drop by, you know, cheer her up a bit. You always did make her laugh,” he said with a sad smile.

“Well, so do you,” Harry said encouragingly.

“Yeah, I used to. Things change after you start living with someone, and you see them all the time. Maybe she’s tired of my jokes. I haven’t heard her laugh in a while. It’s funny how things like that work, one minute you feel like the center of someone’s world, and a few years later, it feels like they’re bored with you or something.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry said awkwardly.

“Look, mate, I don’t want to bring you down; I know you’re new to marriage and all. I’m sure you and my sister won’t have any of these sorts of problems.”

Harry gave Ron a small smile, hoping it didn't look as false as it felt.

“Well, they’ll be breaking for dessert soon, so we should be getting back,” Harry said.

Ron nodded. “So, you’ll drop by?” he asked with a hopeful expression. 

Harry saw a glimpse of desperation flitter across his best friend's face, and instantly felt his stomach clench in a knot.

“Yeah, sure, anything for Hermione, Ron,” he said. 

Ron took his last drag and then stamped out the cigarette in the grass before patting Harry on the back, which only made Harry feel worse. They walked back inside together to sit through the rest of the reception.

********

The following Monday, as Ron Floo’d in to work his evening shift, Harry was disrobing from his Auror’s uniform after being debriefed with his team.

He thought of Floo’ing home, but then remembered his conversation with Ron and decided to pay Hermione a visit.

He Apparated just outside their fence and walked up the path, stopping just past the hedges and waited. He knew that the security wards would signal his arrival, but he decided to knock anyway, not wanting to make any assumptions about if he would be welcome. Five minutes passed by and no one came to the door, so he took a chance and tried to turn the door handle only to find it locked. He let out a frustrated sigh as he turned to walk away when the door opened slightly. 

He saw Hermione, standing slightly behind the door, peering out at him, her bushy hair was more untamed than he had ever seen it. She was in her nightgown, despite the fact that it was very early in the evening, and it looked as if she had just been awoken from a restless nap. Despite her disheveled appearance, Harry still found her to be quite beautiful and he had to remind himself that he was here to help her, not cause more problems.

She frowned when she saw him. 

“Hi, Hermione,” he said, smiling at her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked in confusion.

“Ron wanted me to come by and check on you,” he said with a slight shrug.

Hermione replied with a humorless laugh. Harry frowned. “You, of all people.”

“’Hermione... I am your friend remember? Ron thought I might be able to cheer you up,” he said a little too defensively. She'd hit a nerve he didn't know what there. 

“Cheer me up?" Hermione repeated sarcastically. "That’s rich; you’re the reason why I’m… just leave me alone Harry, please,” she said with weariness in her voice. 

Harry took a step closer. “Hermione...”

“No," she shook her head, retreating and closing the door a little. "Thanks for coming over, I appreciate it, I really do, but I just need some time to myself."

Harry put his hand out to prevent the door from completely closing. 

“Ron says that you haven’t been reading or cooking, and when you’re not at work, he says you’re moping around and sleeping a lot, and that you aren’t being very… responsive to him. He’s worried.”

“He told you all of that?” she asked narrowing her eyes, apparently displeased they had been discussing her.

“Yes, he loves you."

Hermione's already wet eyes began to spill fresh tears, and she turned away and retreated back into the hallway. 

“Hermione,” Harry said stepping inside following her before closing the door behind him.

“Harry, please, just go,” she said trying to wipe the tears from her eyes, refusing to turn to look at him.

“No, I’m not going to leave you like this,” he said. “Is this about us?”

“I don’t know," she said, throwing her hands up. "Maybe. Maybe it’s more than that. I’m just so confused right now,” she said, dropping her face into her hands.

Harry stood, staring at her back, unsure of what exactly to say. He swallowed. “Well, if it helps, I’m confused, too. But I know that if I shut people I care about out, it won’t make things any better. You have to talk to someone."

She finally turned around and looked at him in exasperation. 

“And what happens when the only person you want to talk to is the source of your misery? What do you do then, Harry?”

“I make you miserable?” he asked, this time not bothering to show that she had hurt his feelings. 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she said in frustration. 

“Well, how exactly did you mean it?” Harry demanded, feeling his annoyance with this whole situation growing.

“Harry, don’t make me say it!" she blurted out. "You know why I don’t want to touch my husband anymore, why I don’t want to leave the bed!” 

She had been feeling terrible ever since the bathroom incident at his housewarming party. She knew she should have felt relief that she had put an end to an affair before it began, but instead she felt worse. All she could think about was Harry, and whenever Ron went to touch her, she felt cold and detached from him, which only caused her to dwell more on the way it had felt to have Harry touch her. And she hated herself for it; it was eating away at her every day.

“It doesn’t have to be this way, Hermione,” Harry said, putting his hands on her shoulders to comfort her.

Hermione recoiled from his touch. “Harry, please just go.”

She sulked into the living room and fell onto the couch wrapping herself up in the blanket she had been lounging in before covering her head with it. 

Harry sat down on the adjacent chair, looking at her several moments, considering what he could say to make things better. Finally he sighed and reached over to pull the cover off of her head.

“Please, sit up and talk to me.”

Hermione didn’t move except to pull the blanket closer to her. Harry rose and made himself a tiny space next to her on the edge of the cushion that she was laying on. She adjusted, pushing herself tighter against the couch to give him room.

He leaned over to stroke her wild hair as it lay on the pillow, tangling his hand in it and then untangling it before moving down to touch her tear stained cheeks. She looked up at him as he began to softly wipe them away, enjoying the feel of his hand on her skin and the care she felt by his caress.

He gave her a small smile, and leaned closer to give her a soft kiss on the cheek. 

“I love you, Hermione. I don’t want to make you sad,” he whispered.

Hermione closed her eyes and smiled, taking in his scent and the closeness she had been longing to feel over the last several weeks. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, holding him tight against her. 

When she did, Harry decided to let go and just fall into her. They stayed like that for several minutes, holding each other on the couch, when Harry ventured to look at her again. He pulled back and stared into her eyes. She was looking back at them with sadness, lust, and restrained affection.

“I want you,” she whispered.

“I want you, too,” he said softly before moving in to kiss her. 

In her head, Hermione knew it was wrong, just like it had been wrong before, but again she felt her body giving in to the desire his kiss was stirring in her. 

This is what she had been dreaming about since that first night in the kitchen; Harry claiming her lips, using his tongue to speak to her, silently telling her how much he wanted her, that she wasn’t alone in her longing.

She stroked his tongue with her own and began to suck on his bottom lip as he moved more squarely on top of her to press his body into hers. 

As his mouth became more demanding and probed hers more deeply, she felt herself arching up to press her breasts against his chest, eager to feel every inch of him.

And then it happened again; the guilt and confusion were back. She broke the kiss and pushed him back. Harry paused and looked at her, perplexed.

“Are you playing? I can’t tell,” he said.

“No, Harry, I’m not. You should stop, get off of me,” she said holding herself still.

Harry nodded and got up. He stood hovering over her for a few moments, considering her.

“You said you were confused, Hermione, but no one’s more confused than me. One minute you’re telling me you want me, and then the next you’re pushing me away. Is this some sort of game to you?” he asked in a tone that suggested he was becoming aggravated. 

Hermione shook her head. “No, Harry, it’s just that sometimes I really do want you, but then I feel bad about it, and when that happens, all I want to do is push you away.”

Harry sat back down in the chair next to the couch. “I guess I understand, but you can’t keep doing this to me or yourself. You have to make a decision.”

“It’d be a lot easier if I didn’t have to make the decision,” she whispered.

“I thought we already went through this; you’ve said that before, and then you scolded me for it. Remember?” he said as he reached out to caress her cheek once more.

“Yeah, I do,” she said closing her eyes and leaning into his palm, smiling again at the feel of his touch. 

He continued to stroke her face until she opened her eyes and smirked.

“Harry, since when do you care about being scolded?” 

Harry withdrew his hand and looked at her soberly for a moment before speaking. 

“Let me get this straight, once and for all,” he said. “You want me to take you when I want, no matter what you say, before, during, or after?”

Hermione didn’t respond, only looked at him.

“Why?” he asked.

“I can’t live with the guilt, Harry. I can’t look at myself in the mirror knowing I’m married to Ron and cheating on him with our best friend. Saying no to you makes it easier somehow.”

Harry stared back at her in disbelief. The idea of Hermione giving him permission to just...take her whenever he wanted to, and having her resist was so, so wrong. Yet, he could feel himself becoming aroused at the thought of it. But it could also potentially turn out very badly, for both of them. 

Harry exhaled loudly as he ran his hands over his face. After several moments of tense silence, he finally looked at her straight. 

“Hermione, I’m not exactly comfortable with the idea that I may actually wind up forcing myself on you. What if there comes a point when you really don’t want it? How will I know?”

“I’ll let you know when it’s okay," she said with a small smirk. 

Harry narrowed his eyes. “How?” 

“You’re smart, you’ll figure it out," she said ominously. 

“That's mental, Hermione! We should just tell—”

Hermione sat up and put her finger up to Harry’s lips. He stared back at her and kissed her finger. She smiled and then replaced her finger with her mouth. Flicking her tongue out to taste his lips, she smiled into the kiss as she began to suck on his bottom lip. Harry opened his mouth, this time allowing her to probe his mouth. He sucked on her tongue briefly before releasing it, pulling back from the kiss. 

Rising from his chair, he grabbed the blanket covering her and threw it over the couch. He pushed her onto her back and held her down gently as he resumed the kiss. 

Hermione moaned into his mouth and began to rub against him, trying to feel as much of him as she could through their clothing. 

Harry found it very uncomfortable to be so aroused and constricted by clothing, so he stood up, unbuckled his belt, and stepped out of his trousers and underwear, freeing himself.

Hermione stared at his hard cock for a moment, thinking it was much more lovely than she had imagined it to be, and couldn’t stop herself from reaching out to grab it. She ran her hand along his length for a few moments before gently pulling it, urging him forward. When he stepped closer, Hermione sat up straighter and leaned forward to run her tongue over the tip and lick up the pre-cum that had formed there. 

Harry hissed and instinctively pushed his hips forward to feel more of her mouth on him. She began to take his head in slowly, looking up at him for his reaction. He looked down at her and pushed her wild hair back away from her face as she began to take in his whole length. 

He couldn’t help but put his hand on her head and guide her mouth over his cock as he began to thrust in and out of her mouth. 

“Hermione,” he whispered.

“Mmmm?” she moaned in response as she continued to suck.

“I need to feel you; I want to be inside you,” he gasped as she quickened her pace.

He had to summon a fair amount of willpower to finally grab her head and pull her mouth off of him. 

“Now. Please, lay back.” he said looking down at her.

Having Harry break the flow of giving him oral sex caused Hermione to snap out of the waking erotic reverie she was in, and the feelings of guilt and self-loathing for what she was doing returned instantly. Instead of doing what he asked, she shook her head and pulled away. 

“Harry, maybe you should go,” she said.

“Not this again,” he said in annoyance.

“I can’t help it, Harry. I feel guilty. It’s sort of a mood killer. I’m sorry,” she said, crossing her arms and looking away.

Harry stared at her for a few moments before grabbing her and pulling her up on her feet from the couch as if he wanted to shake her. Hermione froze in his grip, looking at him in surprise as he proceeded to kiss her again, this time with much more force and urgency. She returned it briefly before pushing at his chest. 

“Harry, stop!” she said, breaking free of his grip. She made a move to get past him and go towards the stairs, when she was pulled back and pushed down to the floor. Harry moved quickly on top of her, holding her down with his full weight resting squarely on her.

“Harry stop, please,” she yelled at him, hitting at him as hard as she could.

“No, Hermione, you stop it, stop this game! Stop acting like you don’t want it!”

“I don’t, I don’t want this, Harry!”

“I don’t believe you,” he said, as he pushed her wrists back against the floor hard, holding them with a tight grip. 

Hermione tried to buck her hips up to throw his weight off but Harry was too heavy and her efforts seemed weak and useless.

“Harry, no…” she gasped, out of breath from fighting him.

“Yes,” he said leaning over to give her a hard kiss. When she tried to twist her mouth away from his, it only made his efforts to kiss her more insistent, and he followed her mouth with his own, finally claiming it and biting down on her bottom lip harshly. 

She whined in both pain and arousal, opening her mouth. Harry seized the opportunity to push his tongue into her mouth possessively. She groaned into his mouth, and he grunted in response as he began to push his erection against her as if he were already inside of her. 

Despite being extremely turned on, Hermione decided that it would look foolish to drop the pretense of not wanting to go further at this point, and she had to admit that she liked seeing this side of him. 

Somewhere in the recesses of her mind, she had already reasoned that if he continued to force himself on her, she couldn’t be held fully responsible for having sex with him. So, fighting Harry through this was the best response; it the only response she would be able to live with, for now.

“Harry, please, don’t, don’t do this,” she cried tearlessly. 

“Damn it, Hermione, you play too much,” he said through his teeth as he tried to hold her down. 

Venturing a chance that she would calm down or acquiesce, he removed one of his hands from her wrists to pull up her nightgown. When he did, she slapped him harshly. 

Harry looked back at her in shock, his glasses half way down his nose. He paused and when he did, Hermione stopped fighting. Their eyes locked, him trying to read hers for signs of truth, hers trying to read his to ascertain if she had played the role too well and had scared him. 

She began to gyrate her hips invitingly and then resumed struggling.

“Harry, please, no!”

He took his glasses off and slid them across the floor, before slapping her back, not as hard as he could have, but just enough to stun her. Hermione looked up at him taken aback.

He took advantage of her momentary surprise by taking both of her wrists in one hand to hold them above her head firmly against the floor. He used his free hand to push aside her knickers and roughly push two fingers into her. He found that that she was very wet. 

Hermione started to grind herself onto his fingers even as she continued to struggle within his grip. He lifted both of her wrists with one hand and slammed them back to the floor.

“Owww, Harry! You’re really hurting me!”

Harry softened his grip on her wrists a bit and continued to thrust his fingers in and out of her before pulling them out and ripping off her knickers with one swift movement, eliciting another whine. 

He paused to look down at her, and considered kissing her when she started kicking. Harry groaned in frustration, and reached back to pull his wand from his back pocket. Pushing his knee between her legs he looked back and said a containment spell that he often used to hold resistant suspects in place. 

Hermione’s ankle was suddenly locked to the floor by an invisible force. Harry then put his full weight on her other leg, straightening it out as he repeated the spell on her other ankle.

Her nightgown was halfway up her body, her sex was exposed, and she was now spread out for him the way he wanted her to be.

He reached down to push her nightgown up to her shoulders, exposing her full and pert breasts. He dove his head down to take one her nipples into his mouth, sucking on it hard.

“You can’t leave marks!” she breathed.

“Okay,” he said, opting instead to kiss and teasingly lick her until she was writhing with need beneath him. He switched to the other breast despite her body’s insistence for more. 

“Harry, please!” 

Pulling back to look at her, he found himself more enraptured by her pretty face contorted in an expression somewhere between lust and stubborn resolve to resist him. It only made him more determined to make her completely give in to what he knew she really wanted. He positioned his cock at her entrance, pausing to tease her clit with the head of it. 

She responded by rotating her hips to feel more of it. He smiled inwardly as he pushed himself into her deeply with one thrust. Hermione gasped at the forcefulness of the penetration before closing her eyes to revel in the feeling of him pounding into her over and over again. 

Watching Hermione accept his rough treatment of her only excited Harry more, and he felt as if he had been freed from some invisible restraint that had been holding him back from showing her how much he wanted her. He let his desire to have her all to himself take over, fucking her with a possessive vigor he’d never indulged in before with anyone. 

“Oh, Harry! Oh Merlin, this is so wrong, _please_ —”

“This is mine, isn’t it?” he said as he drove himself into her fully once more.

“No, oh Harry, no, ughh,” she said clenching her eyes shut. 

“Yes! It is; you’re mine! All mine, Hermione,” he said grunted as he approached his release.

Hermione found that no matter how hard she fought him, her body was communicating the truth, meeting every thrust as much as possible with her ankles bound to the floor. She felt herself tighten around his shaft and moaned loudly in spite of herself as her orgasm overtook her.

When Harry felt her clenching around him and heard her moan, he knew he was going to lose it, and let out a loud groan as he spent himself inside of her before collapsing on top of her. 

He lay there panting on top of her, feeling his heart beating in his chest until Hermione shifted underneath him uncomfortably. He slowly let go of her wrists, and gave her a kiss on the cheek before falling off of her and onto his back. Hermione lay still beside him for several moments before looking up at him. 

“You forced yourself on me.”

“Did I really?” he asked, anxiety speeding up his breath. He quickly sat up and freed her ankles. 

Hermione sat up and brought her legs up to her chest, rubbing her ankles.

“Yes, of course you did,” she said, looking up at him, her eyes bright and playful. 

“Well, if that's true, then I should be sent to Azkaban," Harry said with a smirk. "I’ll turn myself in straight away, after dinner of course."

“Well, you don’t have to punish yourself so harshly,” she said with a smirk to rival his own.

“It wasn’t anything you would have allowed,” Harry said with one raised eyebrow.

“Most certainly not; I’m married to Ron,” Hermione responded, raising her chin in a dignified pose.

Harry shrugged. “And I’m a bloke, can’t control myself.”

“Well, since you are apologetic, I don’t think you need to serve any time for it, but I can’t allow this to happen again Harry.”

“You wouldn’t be a good wife if you did.”

“Exactly.”

“I expected no less from you Hermione.”

“I’m glad to hear that. I’m not some common slag who cheats on her husband,” she said rising, pulling down her nightgown and picking up her kickers before going back to take a seat on the couch.

“Of course not,” he said rising to gather his trousers and underwear.

“If I were, I would leave the door unlocked for any Tom, Dick and… Harry to enter when my husband went to work at 7:00pm,” she said pointedly. 

Instantly understanding her meaning, Harry nodded in affirmation and started to dress. “Yes, that would be quite foul indeed," he replied. "I suspect though, any bloke that would be up to that sort of mischief would come by a bit later, like closer to ten, after he spent time with the wife and made up an errand to run for an hour or so.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of dealing with that sort of trash," she said, watching him over her teacup. 

Harry snorted. 

Hermione sighed in exaggeration. “I’m dreading tomorrow, so many meetings to attend, including one in Diagon Alley.”

“Diagon Alley?”

“Yes, I’m meeting with the leaders of an advocacy group that’s working on class action suit on behalf of a group of house-elves that were abused pretty badly by several pure-blood families during the war. They’ve managed to secure some support from some influential players outside of the Ministry but they’d like to see what I can do for them.”

“I see,” Harry replied cautiously.

“I’ll be there from lunch until about 2pm, I believe,” she said.

“Okay.”

“It’d be nice if I had an Auror to escort me back to the Ministry after my meeting; Ron’s usually sleeping at that time.”

“What for?” Harry asked, looking at her in concern.

“Merlin knows what could happen if I went up the wrong alley alone. Knockturn Alley is so close by, and the most wicked things occur to innocents there.”

Harry looked at her, waiting for her to say more, and when she didn’t, he took a seat beside her. When he did, she flashed him a casual smile and offered him a drink. He accepted, and they talked for about a half an hour, and by the end of it, Hermione was laughing, which made Harry very happy. 

He was already an hour late for dinner though and hadn’t informed Ginny that he would be, which he knew was a recipe for another argument, something they seemed to be having more of lately. He told Hermione he had to get back and she nodded in understanding before rising to walk him to the door. 

They hugged, and he told her that he would come by and check up on her more often. 

“See you later, then,” he said before walking out. 

“Tomorrow, maybe?” she said giving him a wink.

Harry shook his head and smiled. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Oh, and Harry?”

“Yes, Hermione?”

“Thanks for coming over. I do believe Ron was right; I’m feeling better already.”


	4. Don't Go Up Dark Alleys

The next day as Hermione searched her wardrobe for suitable clothing to go under her dress robes for work, Ron rolled over in bed to watch her.

“I was thinking that if you like, we’d go out for lunch today,” he said with a small smile.

Hermione shook her head as she began to dress. “Sorry, Ron, I have a working lunch meeting today.”

“Oh,” he said, sounding disappointed before his eyes lit up. “Well, how about we have an early dinner? You won’t have to lift a finger; I’ll fix everything! 5:30?”

Hermione paused for a moment and then slipped into her dress robes. “I’m not sure how late I’ll be,” she said cautiously.

“Hermione, please, I’m trying here. What do you want?” Ron said sitting up.

Frustrated, Hermione turned around to look at him. “I told you, it’s not about you. Look, I’ll try to get home before you leave, but don’t go out of your way, please,” she said, picking up her briefcase, and heading out of the door.

“Have a nice day!” he called after her before rolling over and punching the pillow.

*******

After three hours straight of non-stop meetings, Hermione found it hard to concentrate on anything than clock. Nervous excitement was pooling in her stomach as lunchtime approached. She wondered if Harry would take her up on her not-too-subtle offer to meet after her lunchtime meeting with the head of the Elf Advocacy Group.

As soon as her last morning meeting adjourned, she wasted no time Apparating in front of her favorite coffee shop in Diagon Alley to wait for her lunch appointment. She only had to wait a few minutes before an attractive young blonde woman with a serious and self-confident demeanor strolled up. 

The woman introduced herself as Christina Stevenson, and after several minutes of pleasant small talk and a debriefing about her organization, Hermione took an instant liking to her. She appeared to be a eager and bright young witch. She reminded Hermione a lot of her younger self. 

Ms. Stevenson recounted with excitement her organization’s legal strategy for the house-elf class action suit as well as their progress in raising funds. She made a point to emphasize to Hermione the surprising amount of support they were receiving for their cause. 

Hermione was not surprised at all; she had been working hard ever since the war ended on behalf of elves. And, whether it was because of her own tireless efforts, her celebrated role in the war, or having Harry Potter as her best friend, general public support for elf rights had risen considerably. She smiled on as Christina spoke of her group’s accomplishments as if her organization had been solely responsible for all of the progress made in the elf liberation movement. 

But it was hard to focus because Hermione's thoughts kept wandering back to Harry. What happened on the living room floor yesterday had been so wrong, so kinky, and so… hot. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it, and had even masturbated to the memory of it that morning while taking a shower. 

Harry slapping her had been shocking, and she found herself replaying that over in her mind the most. She never thought that Harry could ever do such a thing, but then again she also never thought that she could cheat on Ron. But it really wasn’t cheating in the traditional sense, was it? She had certainly told Harry no and resisted his advances. And when she resisted, how good it felt to have him overpower her. The way he pinned her down, forced her legs open before binding her ankles to the floor…

“Mrs. Weasley?”

Hermione’s eyes snapped into focus on the hazel eyes of the young woman sitting across from her. She looked impatient and offended. 

“I’m so sorry Ms. Stevenson, you were saying?”

“Well, I was wondering if perhaps you could arrange an audience with the Minister and his chief advisors about this case. We have some great ideas about its implications on future Ministry policy. I think he would be interested in what we have to say,” she said somewhat sternly as if she did not appreciate having to repeat herself again. 

“Ms. Stevenson, the Minister is a very busy man, but I assure you that by talking to me, you already have the audience you seek. Since the case is still open, there is very little the Minister can do in terms of support; however, please inform your group that we are watching the development closely. We would be happy to work with you behind the scenes until it’s over,” she said in her most professional and confident voice.

Ms. Stevenson smiled widely and nodded her head. 

Hermione's eyes went wide as a familiar shadow entered her peripheral. 

It was Harry, but he wasn’t wearing his Auror robes, instead he was wearing shabby dark robes and he had on a Muggle baseball cap. It was a rather odd combination and if he hadn’t been so close to the window and looked right at her, she wouldn’t have recognized him at all. He flashed her a small smile as he passed the window behind Ms. Stevenson and then looked away, walking up the cobblestone out of her view.

“I’m so excited. It’s most promising to have Ministry support. We’ve been—”

“Uh, yes, yes, Ms. Stevenson, anything you need. Listen, I’ll have my assistant contact you. I really do have to run,” Hermione said quickly, pulling out a Galleon to place upon the table.

“Oh my,” the young woman said staring down at the coin that would more than cover their bill.

“It’s fine dear. Listen, pay the tab and keep the change; consider it a personal contribution to your organization from me, off the record, of course,” Hermione said with a wink before rising.

“Of course! And thank you for your time, Mrs. Weasley; we certainly look forward to working with you,” she said before looking up only to discover Hermione was nowhere to be found.

Hermione saw the tail of what looked like the same dark robes far ahead of her whipping around the corner up towards Knockturn Alley.

She walked quickly to catch up and once she had reached the end of Diagon Alley she turned left. Once around the corner, she immediately felt the change in atmosphere. The sweet scents of baking goods and flower shops were instantly replaced by a putrid mixture of age, stale alcohol, and piss. The brightness of daylight had all but faded away, and she felt a chill surround her as the shade of the tall dark foreboding shops around her seemed to close in on the twisted, narrow and worn-out walkway that lay before her. 

She shook her head in wonder at how darkness could fall so quickly on an alley so close to Diagon. Knockturn may not have been cursed, but it was easy to see why it served as a haven for those who were.

The alley was no longer busy with shoppers and there was hardly anyone around, aside from the occasional beggar or shady shopper moving briskly and cautiously about as not to be spotted. And then after a few moments of walking, it seemed as if she were completely alone. She could feel her heart race as she realized where she was and how foolish it was to come here chasing after someone that looked like Harry. 

Harry would never lead her to such a place, at least not without escorting her himself. Perhaps she had been too immersed in her daydream fantasy of him to discern whether she had really seen him.

She began to turn around to head back when she felt a wand pressed to her back.

“Don’t turn around, keep walking until I tell you to stop,” the voice said. It was a low raspy voice, unfamiliar to her, and she felt real fear creep up from her belly as she thought about her wand in the right pocket of her robe.

He led her to the darkest corner of the walkway into a small narrow side alley between two large brick buildings that blocked most of the sky and sunlight, giving the appearance that it was dusk instead of early afternoon. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing walking alone? You’re just asking for it,” he said as he turned her around roughly and pushed her against the brick wall, causing her to groan as she felt the brick ground into her back. The wand was now at her throat, and he was pressed up against her obscenely in an instant. 

The baseball cap was gone, but so was Harry’s face. Instead of the Harry she had just followed, staring back at her was a man of similar height and build, but there was no scar. His wild black hair was now brown and tamed, and his features were like Harry’s, but distinctly different and rougher, giving Harry the appearance of a hardened criminal. 

A glamour. 

It had to be. She knew Aurors, especially those working undercover, had been specially trained to be able to produce elaborate facial glamours in a moment’s notice, but she had never witnessed such a quick transformation up close. It was remarkable.

She would have never believed it were Harry if he had not kept his eyes. Glamour or not, she could recognize those eyes anywhere, and she was thankful that he hadn’t taken the game that far to change them or she may have screamed.

“Harry?”

“That’s not my name, but you don’t need to know that do ya? Just keep your mouth shut and do what your told and I may let you live.”

Hermione snickered. “Wow, you’re really getting into this, I’m impressed.”

“Shut the fuck up!” he said, reaching up to close his hand around her throat where his wand had been. He moved it higher to stick into the flesh of her chin. 

Hermione nodded her head, looking back at him with wide-eyed astonishment. She really was impressed. He was going all out for this, so she was determined to play her part well.

“Oh, please Mr. I—I don’t have much money on me,” she said with her best imitation of a trembling voice.

Harry chuckled darkly. “You think I brought you back here for money?”

Hermione began to breathe more rapidly, trying to look around him as if searching for someone to come to her aid.

“Well what do you want?” she whispered fearfully.

Harry leaned in, his breath hot on her face, as he spoke in a barely audible low tone.

“You.”

“What? What do you mean? I’m a married woman!” Hermione said as if informing him of that would perhaps turn him off.

Harry smirked. “You think I care? Your husband should keep better watch.”

Hermione tried not too discreetly to move her hands behind her to retrieve her wand when Harry began to slowly move his wand from her chin down her body, stopping in the middle of her chest. 

“Try that again, and I’ll slice you open,” he said coldly.

Hermione’s eyebrows went up. Did Harry really just say that? She had to search his the unfamiliar face again, to reassure herself that it was Harry, and when she found his green stare boring into hers, she relaxed a little.

“Please,” she whispered.

“I said shut up, bitch,” he said as he smacked his hand over her mouth in warning. 

He slowly relaxed his grip over her mouth to move down over her robes to her breasts, groping them roughly as he pressed his hardening erection against her. 

Holding her against the rough brick wall by the throat, he slid his hand down to the hem of her rob and lifted it up around her waist, bring her skirt with it. He began to run his hands up her leg and skirt to her knickers. 

Hermione began to struggle, trying half-heartedly to kick her legs out to make contact with his groin. Harry pulled her from the brick wall with one hand and shook her hard.

“Are you gonna make trouble or do I have to knock you out to do this?” he asked, causing her to still.

He pushed her back up against the wall, resuming his exploration between her legs.

“I knew it. A girl like you in this part of town is just looking for trouble,” he said as his fingers brushed against the center of her wet knickers. 

He quickly pulled them to the side to push his fingers into her, causing Hermione to moan loudly at the roughness of the intrusion.

He gave the material a hard yank, but instead of completely tearing, it left them hanging loosely, which was good enough for what he had planned.

“Well, if it’s trouble you’re looking for, then that’s exactly what you’re gonna get, cunt.”

“Oh, please, please, don’t do this, I won’t tell anyone, just leave me alone,” she said beating her hands at his chest with a tearless sob, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes.

Harry looked at her tiny fists and almost laughed. “Cry all you want, there ain’t nobody here to help you,” he said with a sinister grin.

Hermione briefly wondered where he had learned to be this… bad. Working with criminals must have left its mark. Whatever it was, it was damn sexy.

He quickly pulled his cock from his trousers while holding her steady with one hand.

“No, please don’t.”

“Shut up and spread your legs for me, now!” 

Hermione spread her legs wider, and Harry lifted her leg up with his free hand pulling it around his back as he plunged into her with a grunt.

“Ah, yeah, that’s it, nice and tight just like I like it,” he groaned as he began to drive into her wetness at a hard and fast pace. 

Hermione moaned and whimpered as Harry began to imitate a stabbing motion with his thrusts, burying himself deep inside of her before pulling almost all the way out and doing it again with almost brutal force. He was giving no regard to her back, and the brick that that dug into it with every stroke. 

It didn’t matter though; the whole experience of Harry taking her like this was sending her over the edge quickly. This was Harry, but it wasn’t. No one had ever taken her like this, and she quickly forgot herself and the role she was supposed to play and wrapped her other leg around his back.

“What a hot piece of arse you are,” he whispered in her ear, making her squeeze her legs tighter around his waist.

Harry grabbed her arse, and held her up against the wall with one hand as his assault became more primal. He began to grunt and groan as he continued his relentless pace. 

Hermione was biting her lip to keep from screaming and she held a firm grip on his shoulders, urging him to continue. She began to wiggle her hips, giving extra friction over his cock, when she felt her climax arrive and moaned loudly through clenched teeth as she came.

Harry moaned. “Mmm, yeah, you like that, don’t ya? I bet you don’t get it like this at home, do you?” he said as he quickened his assault.

Hermione couldn’t argue with that, so instead she half moaned and half sobbed in protest even as she urged him deeper with her legs. 

Harry’s hips began to jerk erratically as he approached his release, and his grip on her arse became harder, his nails digging into her. “Oh yeah baby, you’re gonna make me come.”

“Oh, please don’t,” she cried.

“Oh yeah, I’m gonna fucking come deep inside of you. Take it, bitch, take it all!”

“Oh, no, please!”

“Harry, what’s that?” she whispered as they both heard footsteps.

“Shh. Wait… shit, I think someone’s coming,” Harry said in annoyance. They waited for a few moments and indeed the footsteps grew louder. Harry dropped Hermione’s legs and fixed himself.

“This isn’t over, sweet cheeks. I’ll find you later. You tell anyone and I’ll cut your fucking tongue out. You hear me?” he whispered.

Hermione nodded slightly staring back at him while holding her breath, waiting for him to break character. But he didn’t, instead he gave her a nasty smile and pinched her cheek as if she were a child.

“See you soon,” he said before running awkwardly up the narrow passage way and around the corner.

_What the hell?_ She could feel herself shaking all over, although she wasn’t sure whether it was post coital tremors or being unnerved by how good Harry had played his role.

She looked around for the approaching footsteps but they stopped and retreated. She breathed a sigh of relief and began to straighten herself up. She rubbed her sore back and pushed down her robe. She began fixing her hair when a dark figure appeared at the opening where Harry had run off. 

She drew out her wand and began to step back before stopping to narrow her eyes. The figure was walking steadily and confidently towards her with an air of authority. 

She relaxed. It was Harry. Her Harry. Black messy hair, scar, and Auror-robe-clad Harry.

“Harry!” she sighed in relief. “That was… nuts! Not that I didn’t enjoy it, but—”

“Miss?” Harry said, looking at her strangely.

“Harry!?” she said, shaking her head, not getting what he was playing at now.

“Are you all right?” he asked, looking her over slowly from head to toe.

Hermione sighed and put up her hands in frustration. “Yeah, I mean, you really—”

“What happened? You look like you’ve been attacked!” Harry said, looking around as if the suspect may still be around.

“Harry! Are you mental?”

“Just calm down, Miss. I have some questions that I need to ask you,” he said, pulling out a pad and pre-inked quill.

Hermione nodded her head, still regarding him with bewilderment.

“Can you describe the subject?” he said seriously, looking at her patiently.

Hermione smiled. “Well, not really, I mean, well it happened so fast and he came up from behind. But he was rather dodgy looking, brown hair, disheveled. He had the face of a criminal.”

“I see.”

“Please, sir, I don’t want to file a report, my husband… he—he can’t find out about this,” she said, looking at him coyly with a smirk.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Miss,” Harry said, regarding her seriously. “Ministry decree Number 2106 clearly states that all attacks, assaults, crimes against persons must be reported when an Auror has knowledge of said crimes,” he said.

Hermione nodded awkwardly.

“I see,” she said, not sure what where he was going with this.

“Although, I could be persuaded not to file a report,” he said with a faint smile, drawing closer to her. 

Hermione’s eyes went wide. “Oh? How so… do you want money?” she asked, watching him carefully.

“No ma’am, I’d never take a monetary bribe,” he said putting his pad and quill away and opening the front of his robe.

She stared at the opening, and the huge bulge apparent there before looking back up at him with a raised eyebrow. 

When she didn’t move, Harry made a move to bring out his pad and quill. “A report it is then, although I can’t guarantee it won’t make headlines, you look pretty high profile to me.”

“NO! Please, I’ll do anything,” she said sinking to her knees before him.

“It’s up to you, Miss. I’m just here to serve and protect,” he said with a smirk. 

Hermione began to pull at his belt, when Harry shooed her hands away and just unzipped his trousers to pull himself out. He was ready for her, his hard cock leaking and throbbing from where it had been left off. He pushed it into her face insistently. She didn’t waste anytime taking him in her hand to stroke him as swallowed the head eagerly. She worked her mouth along his length until she had as much of him as she could in her mouth. 

Harry raked his hands through her hair and used one anchored hand to push and pull her mouth over him as he worked towards finishing what had been interrupted.

“I bet you came back here just asking for it, huh? You know better than to be here, Miss,” he said as his hips pushed against her mouth more urgently.

Hermione hummed over his cock and cupped his balls, stroking them tenderly as she closed her mouth tighter around him to help him toward his release.

“Oh, yes, that’s it, Miss. Keep sucking like that, and I’ll make sure no one ever knows what a hot little slut you are,” he groaned before stilling Hermione’s head and exploding inside of her mouth. 

She gulped him down greedily, enjoying the salty bitter taste of him and the moans it elicited. Finally with every drop of him depleted, she released her mouth’s hold on him and looked up.

Harry looked down at her and smiled appreciatively before helping her back onto her feet. He readjusted himself, fixing his robe, and cleared his throat.

“It’s just a shame; a nice lady like you had to learn the hard way not to go up dark alleys. Would you like an escort back to Diagon Alley, Miss?” he said, offering his arm.

Hermione stifled a giggle as she took his arm.

“Yes, sir, thank you very much.”

*******

When Harry Floo’d home, Ginny was waiting for him, sitting in front of the fireplace.

He had barely stepped out when she jumped up excitedly. 

“Harry, you’ll never believe it!” she said as if she could barely restrain herself.

“What is it?” he asked a little taken aback.

“I got a special invitation to try out for the Holyhead Harpies!” she said proudly.

“No way! That’s great Ginny!”

“It sure is! The Assistant Coach almost guaranteed me a spot!”

“Fantastic, I’m so proud of you!” he said, giving her a big hug.

She hugged him back before pulling back. “Of course, that may mean less time around the house; they have a busy schedule this coming season, not to mention practice,” she said, waiting for his reaction. 

Harry shrugged. “Well, it doesn’t matter, it’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”

“Yes, but I don’t want to do anything that may cause us problems later. We should talk about it,” she said soberly, taking a seat on the couch.

Harry shook his head as he sat down beside her. “No, it’s fine.”

“Just like that?” she asked, looking at him in concern.

“Sure, just like that,” he said, smiling back.

Ginny frowned and took Harry’s hand into hers. “Harry, maybe you don’t understand. I’ll be on the road, away a lot, practices can last several hours a day at odd hours; things may change.”

“Only for the better,” Harry murmured.

“What?” Ginny asked in shock.

Harry sighed. “Ginny, what I mean is that anything that’s going to make you happy will make me happy. Please, don’t think too much about this,” he said firmly.

Ginny nodded her head slowly. 

“Well, okay… so, how was work today?” she said, reaching up to run her hand along his cheek.

Harry fought the urge to pull back from her touch. He cast his eyes past her as he spoke. 

“Oh, it was rather predictable, the usual; some petty theft, a few shady characters down by Knockturn.”

“You arrest anyone?” she asked a bit too eagerly for Harry’s tastes.

“Nope.”

“Well, if you’re interested, you could search me. I’m up for a bit of questioning,” she said seductively, scooting closer to him and throwing her arms around his neck.

Harry pulled away from her.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, Ginny; I’m just really tired, I mean, I just got home. I’m gonna go shower,” he said, rising from the couch.

“Oh, all right,” she said sounding disappointed. “Harry?”

“Yeah?” he asked wearily from the steps.

“A letter came for you a few minutes before you arrived. I think it’s from Hermione or Ron, it has their crest on it. I put it on the desk in your study,” she said.

“Oh, okay, thanks,” he said trying not to show his anticipation.

He walked into his study, picked up the letter, and went into his bathroom, turning on the shower and locking the door. 

 

_Harry,_

_I hope all is well. I just wanted to say thank you so much for dropping by to cheer me up yesterday. Things are much better now. Ronald and I just had a wonderful dinner; he cooked it all by himself. I know, shocking, but it was a pleasant change. Last night I had the first sound sleep I’ve had in many weeks. And although my back has been up against the wall at work lately, I came out in much higher spirits by the end of the day._

_Ron wants to spend more ‘quality time’ with me, so we’ll be working on that for the next several days. Perhaps though, sometime next week we could have some tea together._

_I need to talk to you. I know you have experience with bad dreams, and I’d like your opinion on a few of mine. Lately, I’ve been plagued by a frightful schoolgirl dream about not being able to earn high marks in Defense Against the Dark Arts. In the dream, the teacher is an absolute ogre and refuses to give me an ‘O’ even when it’s quite clear that I deserve one. I go to see him after class and he makes the most indecent proposal for adjusting my grade. Well, you know exactly how I would respond to such an offer. Fortunately, the dream always stops there, so I have no idea how it really ends. I know you’re probably having a good laugh at this, but it really is bothering me. I realize that it’s only a dream, but I would like your insight about what you think it may all mean. Next Wednesday or Thursday perhaps? Do let me know if you plan to come…._

_Please give my regards to Ginny._

_Yours,_

_Hermione_

Harry smiled and shook his head as he folded the note and stuck it in his bathrobe before stepping into the shower to wash off all the dirt from the day. 

It felt good to let the hot water run over him, as he began to clear his mind and formulate how he would make sure Hermione got the attention she needed when he met her for tea next Thursday. 


	5. Hard Lessons

Harry had put away his Auror robes and was locking up his things when he glanced up and saw Ron walking inside the Auror changing room. He shut out the voice of his guilty conscience and focused on the good.

“Ron! How are you?” he asked as they embraced.

“All right, you?”

“Pretty good,” Harry replied with a small smile. “So what have you been up to?”

Ron shrugged. “Not much, same ole’ same ole’.” 

Plopping down on the bench in front of his locker, Ron pulled out his wand to perform an unlocking spell. The thought of saying a parting word and making a hasty exit briefly crossed Harry’s mind, but that seemed cowardly, so he pressed on. 

“It feels like it’s been ages since we last saw each other,” Harry said, painfully aware of how awkward he sounded. 

Ron looked up at the ceiling as if counting the days since their last encounter. “You know, it has been awhile. We really need to do another couples night soon.”

“Or maybe a Quidditch match? You know Ginny made the team,” Harry said proudly.

Ron turned his head to grin at Harry. “Of course I know!”

Harry nodded. “It’s pretty cool. Maybe we can go watch her play sometime.”

“Sounds good,” Ron said, turning back to his locker.

“So uh, how’s everything going?” Harry asked again, mentally slapping himself for asking the same question twice. “I mean…how are things with Hermione?”

Ron back visibly tensed.

“Better,” he replied in an unusually neutral tone.

“Yeah?” Harry tilted his head, waiting for him to elaborate.

Ron sighed, finally turning to fully face Harry. 

“We’re spending “quality time” together now,” he said, performing exaggerated air quotes with his hands. 

Harry tried to offer a smile in spite of the spark of jealousy spreading through his chest. “Well that’s good, isn’t it?”

Ron shrugged. “I suppose.”

“You suppose?” 

“I suppose it’s good that she’s making an effort,” Ron said, his eyes full of resignation.

“But it’s not enough?” Harry pressed.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Ron said quickly as if he were trying to convince himself.

“That doesn’t _sound_ fine, Ron,” Harry said.

Ron’s ears turned bright pink as he tried to meet Harry’s eyes. “What I mean is that it’s great she’s making an effort. She’s certainly been much cheerier. But it’s not exactly what I had in mind, if you know what I mean.” 

Harry nodded slowly, secretly relieved that Ron and Hermione had not been intimate since he last spoke to him.

“Well, have you talked it over with her?” he asked.

Ron shifted uncomfortably. “No… I don’t want her to feel coerced, you know?”

Harry had to tell himself not to smirk at the irony. “Well mate, just keep working at it. I’m sure she’ll come around.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Ron said, turning around to pull out his Auror robes from his locker. 

As Harry stood there, staring at his best mate’s back, another tide of guilt swept over him. He could feel a thin sheen of sweat breaking on his brow, and his stomach was doing weird flips. He had to get away from Ron. Immediately. 

Not trusting himself to speak, Harry simply turned and walked out of the changing station. He did two laps around the second floor of the Ministry, venturing through the Information Center and then finally the snack shop for a drink. As he watched people go in and out, he wallowed in his guilt once more, mentally chastised himself for being such a bad friend. 

Once his drink was gone though, and he felt as if he had sufficiently beaten himself up, Harry stood to Apparate to the Weasley residence.

~~~*~~~

Ron took his time putting on his Auror robes and strapping on his wand holster. He really didn’t feel like being at work today, and his recent conversation with Harry didn’t do anything to relieve his anxiety about his problems with Hermione.

He left the changing station, still feeling forlorn when suddenly he bumped into something soft and sweet smelling. He looked up to see a very pretty young blonde woman with bright hazel eyes carrying loads of pamphlets. Half of them had spilt onto the floor. 

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she said, blushing profusely.

“That’s all right, it’s my fault,” Ron said, bending down to pick up the pamphlets on the floor. “You’d think I’d look where I was going, being an Auror and all.” 

The young lady gave him embarrassed smile and bent down to help him. “I really need to get a briefcase, but honestly, I hadn’t planned on carrying so much today. I just discovered the Ministry’s Information Center, and I suppose I went a bit overboard.”

“How about I get you something to help you carry all of this?” Ron offered.

“Oh that’s all right, I-” 

“Just wait right here,” Ron said before she could finish, turning to sprint back to the Auror changing station. 

When Ron emerged again, he had an old beaten leather binder. “Here, you can use this. It’s not much to look at, but it should do the trick.”

Her smile was radiant as she accepted the binder. “Oh, thank you. Are you sure? This is a great binder.”

“Well, it’s rather old and I’ve gotten my use out of it. Wife gave it to me, she got it from a Muggle shop. Look, it even has inner pockets and a calculator.”

“It’s certainly useful. Your wife sounds like a smart one,” she said, marveling at the many features of the binder.

“Oh she is, brightest witch of her age. She works for the Ministry as well,” Ron, bragged.

The woman’s eyes grew wide with recognition. “You’re married to Hermione Granger? You must be Ron Weasley!”

A slow grin spread across Ron’s face. “That’s right.”

“Oh my goodness. Of course! I recognize you now, I’m so sorry I didn’t before,” she said, extending her hand eagerly. “I’m an admirer of both you and your wife.”

Ron blushed. “Nice to meet you too, Mrs.?”

“Oh, no, no, it’s not Mrs. anything,” she said with a blush. “It’s _Miss_ Stevenson.” 

She seemed to realize that she had been holding onto Ron’s hand too long and quickly let go. 

Ron swallowed and glanced around awkwardly. 

“Mr. Weasley, this may seem awfully forward of me, but your wife said that she would have her assistant call me, and I have yet to hear from her office.”

“Oh?”

Miss Stevenson frowned. “Yes, trying to schedule an appointment with her is very difficult; apparently she’s booked for the next month. That’s actually the reason why I’m here; I was hoping to catch her at her office.” 

“Oh, you’ll never catch Hermione at this hour,” Ron said. “The Minister has her tied up in meetings most of the day. “

“I see,” Miss Stevenson sighed. “It’s a shame, we still have much to discuss. I’ve only been fortunate enough to meet with her once.”

Ron gave her a small smile. “That’s my Hermione; she’s a hard worker.”

“So I hear. Would you mind relaying a message to her for me?”

“Sure,” Ron said, pulling out a pre-inked quill and notepad. 

“Thank you,” Miss Stevenson said with great relief. “Please let her know that Miss Stevenson from E.A.G. has been trying to reach her. I’m sure she already heard the good news, but there’s word that they are very close to reaching a settlement in the elf case, probably in the next few days, and I’d like to arrange another meeting with her. We’ve drafted a formal proposal for the Ministry’s review and would like to make a presentation on it as soon as the settlement is made.” 

“All right,” Ron said, jotting the last of it down. “I’ll let her know.”

“Oh, and tell her the next lunch is on me,” she said.

“Ah, so you’re the reason she couldn’t meet me for lunch last week?” he teased. 

Miss Stevenson smiled bashfully. “Yes, guilty as charged. She was nice enough to pay and even made a generous donation, but I simply must return the favor, especially since she couldn’t stay to eat.”

Ron eyebrows rose. “Oh?”

“No, she said had to run. Off to another meeting, I suppose,” Miss Stevenson said. “Oh, here, let me write down my home address as well.” She took the pad and quill from him. 

Ron was both impressed and stunned at her tenacity. 

“She can owl me here or at our headquarters,” she said, casually brushing her fingers over his as she handed over the quill and notepad.

“All right, I’ll let her know,” Ron said quickly, suddenly feeling a bit nervous for some reason.

“Thank you.” Miss Stevenson gave one last warm smile and then walked on. 

If he wasn’t a married man, Ron would have eyed her backside with great interest as she walked away. But he was married, and he was determined not to look. 

As he made his way towards the room designated for Auror assignment and announcements, Ron found himself frowning. 

He didn’t know why his wife had refused to meet him so that she could attend a working lunch meeting that she had cut short. And he didn’t know why that very same day she came home unusually happy and energetic. But, somewhere in the back of his detective mind, a nagging voice was telling Ron that none it was good.

~~~*~~~

Hermione began to pace as she waited for Harry to show up. This was the first time she had actually asked him to come over to have sex. She had to own up to what she was doing now; she was a willing participant in this affair, and there was no rationalizing around it.

Even if the professor-student role play session could help her immerse herself in a fantasy that took her away from the guilt for a moment, at the end of it, she would have no one to blame but herself for initiating it. 

She contemplated telling Harry that she couldn’t go through with it when he arrived, but when he finally showed up, she couldn’t ignore the nervous excitement she felt. 

She had been thinking about Harry all week, and finally seeing him raised her spirits. It was by sheer willpower that she refrained from running and jumping into his arms when he appeared at the door. 

“Harry, so glad you could drop by,” she said, trying not to look too excited.

“Of course Hermione, anything for you,” he said as he stepped inside. 

“Would you like some tea?” she asked, trying not to sound as nervous as she felt. 

“Of course, that’s why I came over, isn’t it?” Harry asked, with a mischievous smile.

“Right.” She exhaled a shaky breath and turned to lead him into the living room where she had set up a serving tray, complete with all of the fixings. 

“How have you been?” he asked.

“Not so good,” she said, giving him a dramatic look of sadness. Harry did his best not to snort, but couldn’t help but smile.

“You say you’re having bad dreams?” he asked taking a seat. 

“Yes, I’ve really been having a hard time sleeping lately, it’s rather troubling actually.” She took her seat beside him on the couch, trying to exude a solemn demeanor. “I keep having a dream that I’m failing DADA.”

Harry turned to face her, his arm relaxing behind her head. “DADA? Wow. What year?”

“Sixth?” she said, shrugging with a sly smirk. 

Harry grinned. “OK then, go on.”

Hermione relaxed into the couch, leaning back to rest her head against him. “Well in the dream, there’s rather stern teacher who gives me unfair marks and demands that I do better, even though I’m doing the best I can.”

Harry sat up studied her for a moment, licking his lips. “I see. And this teacher, is it anyone I know?”

“That’s just it,” Hermione sighed. “He seems familiar, but then he doesn’t, if that makes any sense.”

Harry nodded and rubbed his chin in thoughtful contemplation. “Well, maybe this dream is your subconscious trying to tell you something.”

“Ok, I’m listening,” Hermione said, raising one eyebrow.

Both Harry and she knew that this was quite a role reversal; she usually had many theories about such things, and her friends often came to her for counsel. But, she was rather enjoying playing clueless for once and she was very curious to see how Harry played this out. 

“Well, I think it’s very telling that this dream takes place while you’re still a teenager attending Hogwarts,” he said looking up at the wall as if in deep contemplation. “Perhaps it represents something about your past that you want to correct, but it’s something you’ve never felt that you can completely master.”

“I see, and what about the dreadful teacher?”

“Perhaps this teacher’s outrageous demands is your subconscious way of telling yourself that if you want something bad enough, you should be willing to do anything to get it,” he said looking at her intently. 

“Hmm.”

“You said he’s grading you unfairly right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if the teacher and the student are both really two different sides of your subconscious, it could mean that you’re sitting in judgment of yourself.”

“Brilliant, Harry, go on.”

“And since you seem to think you deserve better, the part sitting in judgment, the professor, is challenging you to break the rules so that you can get whatever it is you think you deserve.”

“Wow, that’s rather introspective.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, the important question is: what are you going to do about it? Are you going to settle for what you have now, even though you know in your heart you deserve better, or are you going to rise to the challenge and take what should have been rightfully yours all along?” 

“And what if the challenge goes against every moral bone in my body; what if I know it will make me feel horrible for doing it? I think that’s the point in the dream where I always wake up.”

“Well, maybe I can help you get past that point. Do you want to act it out? I’ll be the professor.”

“You really think such a thing will work?” she asked.

“I think it’s worth a try; it will certainly save you loads in going to a mind healer who doesn’t know a fig about you.” 

“Too right you are,” she said, smiling.

“Well off you go. Go put on a schoolgirl uniform,” he said motioning his head to the stairs.

“Ah, I don’t really have a schoolgirl outfit.”

“Nothing that can pass for one?” he asked with a frown. 

Hermione thought about it; it was obvious Harry had been expecting her to dress in full costume for this, and she didn’t want to disappoint him.

“I suppose I could transfigure a few things, if you want to go all the way and play dress up as well,” she said.

“I think we should play it out to the fullest,” he said, smiling eagerly.

Hermione nodded her head and slowly ascended the stairs to her bedroom.

~~~*~~~

When she emerged from her bedroom she had on a very short and tight dark pleated skirt, a tight white button up shirt, and a Gryffindor school tie. She jumped when she heard Harry’s voice coming from her study down the hall; he was supposed to be waiting for her downstairs.

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” he said, his eyes slowly perusing over her body in a most lewd fashion.

“You like?” she asked with a sexy smile.

“Excuse me, young lady?” Harry asked with an eyebrow raised.

“Oh,” Hermione said, nodding her head in understanding. “Professor Potter, um, I wanted to talk to you about my grade.”

Harry nodded. “Very well then, come into my classroom,” he said, turning around to retreat into Hermione’s study.

She followed him and almost stumbled when she saw that he had made some noticeable changes. Her desk was in the middle of the study instead of against the wall, there was a magnetic chalkboard on the wall next to one of her bookcases.

Harry took a seat behind the desk as if it were his own, his back facing the wall with the chalkboard, giving the appearance that he was sitting in a professor’s chair at the front of a classroom.

“You wanted to see me?” he said as if he had been interrupted.

“Yes, Professor, I believe there’s been a mistake,” Hermione said.

“Oh?” Harry asked.

“During the last exam, you gave me an ‘A’, however I got every answer right, so clearly I deserved a ‘O’,” she said with confidence.

“According to whom? You?”

“Well, yes sir, the book corroborates each of my answers,” she said as she put a hand on her hip.

“Not all answers are in books Miss Granger,” he said silkily.

“Sir, I—”

Harry put his hand up to signal her silence. “How about this, I’ll give you an opportunity to improve your score right here and now.”

“I don’t see why I should have to, I got everything right!” she said determinately. 

“Do you want a higher mark or not, Miss Granger?”

“Yes.”

“Well then, go to the board, and write out the etymology, psychological make-up, physical symptoms, and proper defenses against vampires.”

“Vampires, sir?” she asked looking at Harry strangely.

“Did I stutter, Miss Granger?” he said eyeing her coolly.

“No, Professor,” she said feeling very much like a schoolgirl all of a sudden.

Hermione went to the chalkboard, and began to write. The assignment was easy enough, or so she thought. She actually found it rather relaxing to make lists of all of the many things she knew about vampires, and before long, she had forgotten she was there playing a role, and had put her full concentration on the task at hand.

However, her concentration was broken when she heard Harry’s soft sigh behind her.

“I see you didn’t have the propriety to wear your school robe,” he said as if he were quite pleased about it. 

“I’m sorry, sir. I ran here and didn’t have time—”

“No matter, this is much better. It’ll allow me to consider all of your… assets as I make my decision,” he said with a slimy tone she had never heard in his voice before. She turned around to look at him.

“Are you finished?” he asked, looking up at the board.

“No, sir,” she said, turning back around to continue to write. She wrote for several minutes in silence. 

“You certainly have grown up, Miss Granger,” he said finally in a low tone.

“Sir?” she asked, pressing the chalk more firmly into the board to keep her writing steady despite her growing excitement. 

“I must say that you’ve filled out rather nicely, in all the right places,” he continued. Hermione could almost feel the heat from his eyes surveying her arse and thighs with intense interest.

She suddenly became aware that her skirt was riding up on her thighs, just barely covering her arse. She didn’t know why she felt self-conscious about it, but she did.

“But then, you’ve always been ahead of most of the girls in class, it seems fitting that your body would be, too.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m giving you a compliment, Miss Granger. Do you have a problem with that?”

Hermione shook her head and continued to write.

She heard Harry rise from his seat and take a closer step toward her. 

“It must be hard for you,” he said in a soft tone that she found both creepy and erotic at the same time.

“What do you mean,” she asked, trying to concentrate on writing and not what he was going to do as his voice drew nearer.

“Being so… developed, I’m sure you’ve noticed all of the attention you’ve been receiving lately,” he said, stopping right behind her.

“No, sir,” she said, stopping, not sure if she should turn around.

“Keep at it,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Yes, Professor,” she said, continuing to write. He let her write for a few more moments before speaking again.

“Surely, you’ve noticed the way they look at you; I see the way they look at you in class. I dare say though, much of it is your own fault.”

“My fault?” she asked

“It’s most distracting, the way you sashay your arse when you walk into a room and bat your eyelashes, it’s almost as if you’re trying to get our attention,” he said, moving his hand down from her shoulder and tracing his fingers along her back.

“Please, sir,” she said under her breath.

“Keep writing, Miss Granger,” he insisted.

Hermione was steadily finding it hard to concentrate as she wanted push herself back into his hand. Still, she nodded her head and resumed answering the question.

“Don’t they make proper clothing for a girl your size, or are you really the little cocktease I suspect you are?” he whispered as his hand found her arse and gave it a good squeeze.

“Professor! I beg your pardon!” she said, turning around in indignation.

Harry gave her a sly smirk and licked his lips before looking up at the board. 

“Well, it’s clear to me that you do not deserve an ‘O’.”

“And what exactly about my answer is wrong?” she asked, looking up at her work.

“It has nothing to do with your answer, it has more to do with your general disposition. I think we should talk about how you can improve,” he said in her ear before he backed away.

Hermione turned around to see Harry had returned to his seat at the desk, he was visibly hard, and leering at her.

“Come sit on my lap, girl, so we can discuss this.”

“I’ll do no such thing!”

“I see, well, I think that concludes our meeting then. Please see yourself out.”

“Please, Professor,” she said somewhat confused. 

She thought that Harry would have forced himself on her by now, and didn’t know she would be required to take this much initiative in the game. While she was conscious of her growing guilt, she also didn’t want the game to end.

“I’m offering you a chance to discuss this matter in a reasonable fashion, and you’re refusing, therefore, you are dismissed,” he said looking up at her.

Hermione slowly walked over to Harry, looked down at his lap and then took a seat on his knee.

He immediately put one hand around her waist and another between her knees, causing her to shift uncomfortably. 

“You should know that an ‘O’ in my course is only reserved for a select few who can demonstrate their commitment to the course,” he said as he parted her knees and began to move his hand up her leg slowly.

“Please, sir, I-I’ve never done anything like this before,” she whispered.

“Well, that’s what I’m here for; to teach you,” he said as his fingertips reached the edge of her knickers.

Hermione squirmed in Harry’s lap, gripping his arms.

“But—”

“Quiet, now, are you going to talk or are you going to listen and learn?” he asked as he began to stroke her over her knickers. “First things first, you need to learn how to sit properly when talking to me,” he said.

Hermione looked at him in puzzlement.

“Straddle me,” he ordered.

“Professor, that is highly inappropriate,” Hermione said if she were affronted.

Harry chuckled. “So is getting wet from my touch, but that hasn’t stopped you from doing so, has it?” he asked as his fingers slid across the large wet spot in the middle of her knickers.

“I shouldn’t,” she said, biting her lip, feeling a real wave of guilt surfacing. The conversation was dangerously close to mirroring the forbidden nature of her affair with Harry.

“It’s okay; I won’t tell anyone if you won’t. It’ll be our little secret,” he whispered, as he stroked her clit through her knickers. 

Hermione nodded her head slowly as she stood up before repositioning herself so that her legs fell on both sides of Harry, and her crotch was firmly pressed against his in a tight straddle position. 

“Thatta girl. Now then, the reason why I haven’t given you a ‘O’, Miss Granger, is because you’ve haven’t earned it yet,” he said undoing her school tie and sliding it off.

“Whatever do you mean?” Hermione asked a bit out of breath as Harry began to unbutton her blouse. 

“I do all assignments ahead of time,” she said in an unsteady voice as he opened it wide and began to grind himself up against her. 

“And… ah, I… participate in class,” she gasped as the cool air hit her breast after Harry pulled down her bra.

“Oooh, and… I… study,” she moaned as he took a nipple into his mouth, sucking on it firmly.

Harry pushed her skirt up around her waist, and grasped her arse tightly, rotating her hips firmly against his erection. 

“There’s so much more you could be doing to earn top marks, and I intend to show you just how.”

“Professor, please,” she moaned. 

“The question is,” he said as he smacked her arse firmly, “how far are you willing to go to earn your marks?”

“Sir, you have me mistaken; I’m not that kind of girl,” Hermione said as she pushed against him trying to resist.

“Oh, I think you are; you like this don’t you?” he said as he moved his hand inside her knickers to squeeze her bare arse. 

Hermione pulled away from his grip and jumped up. 

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do this! It’s highly inappropriate, and I’ll have to report you to the headmaster,” she said firmly as she started to back up. Harry rose and grabbed her by the arms with both hands.

“You’ll do no such thing. Who would believe you anyway? Everyone knows you’re a just looking for attention.”

Hermione looked back at Harry in shock, but Harry appeared deeply immersed in his character.

“Now, you can walk out of here, tell your little fib, and suffer the embarrassment of it being turned against you,” he continued. “Or you can stay and get your ‘O’.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “On what condition?”

“It’s quite clear you need to be punished for your recent outburst and utter disrespect for authority,” Harry said staring down at her, visibly trying not to laugh.

“Punishment? But I—”

He let go of her and turned around to let out a small laugh before regaining composure and turning back to Hermione with a serious expression. 

“I believe a spanking is in order,” he said taking a seat looking up at her.

“A spanking?”

“If you repeat me once more, you’ll get more than that,” he said in a threatening tone. 

Hermione felt a surge of nervous anticipation charge through her. She had never been spanked before, and thought of being held across Harry’s lap while he smacked her arse like a disobedient child was strangely erotic to her. 

She slowly lowered herself over his lap, trying to get as comfortable as possible despite feeling a bit out of place in the position. Holding her firmly over his knee, Harry lifted her skirt around her waist, exposing her knickers.

“You’ve been a bad girl, haven’t you?” he said as he gave her arse a hard swat.

“Yes, sir!” Hermione yelped.

“Say it!” he said, hitting her arse again in the same place.

“Oh! I’ve been a bad girl, sir!”

“And are you sorry for being a bad girl, Miss Granger?” he asked hitting her in a different spot.

“Uh! Yes, sir! I’m sorry,” she whined.

He swung his hand back and let it hit firmly across both cheeks.

“Oh!”

He began to strike her with measured force and timing, each slap landing in a different spot so that she never got comfortable with it. After a few minutes, Hermione was whimpering in discomfort. 

After a few more hard swats, Harry began to rub her bottom. “There there, no need to get upset,” he said in a soothing tone.

Her whimpers quieted once he began to massage her, and soon she found herself sighing as he palmed the flesh of her arse cheeks. He moved his palms away from her cheek and traced the edge of her knickers. 

Suddenly she felt his fingers slipping underneath the fabric, touching her bare skin and in the next second, her knickers were being pulled down to her knees. 

“Professor?” 

“Hold still child, I’m not quite finished,” he said, as he squeezed and pulled at her bare arse cheeks before playfully smacking them once more. 

He stopped to caress the red swollen flesh, moving his hand closer to the wetness that was beginning to run down her leg. 

He ran a finger over her clit, causing her to sigh, and then began to trace his fingers over her. She couldn’t help but wiggle as he slipped a finger in between her legs and began to stroke her folds. 

“You know, Miss Granger, I’m quite tired of your smart arse comments in class,” he said as he began to move his finger in and out of her. 

“Oh?” she breathed.

“If you raise your hand or speak out of turn one more time, not getting an ‘O’ will be the least of your concerns, do you understand?” he said as he slipped in another finger.

“Yes, sir,” Hermione moaned.

“You will learn not to mouth off to me when I am speaking to you,” he said curving his fingers inside of her and twisting them. 

“Yes, Professor,” she gasped.

“You will learn how to respect your elders,” he said grinding his erection against her body as he continued to finger fuck her.

“Mmm, yes,” she moaned.

“Show me… show me you’re ready to do as you’re told,” he rasped, clearly aroused.

Hermione began push herself back onto Harry’s fingers as he continued to stroke her. 

“Please… don’t stop Professor… mmm.”

“Are you ready to be a good girl for me? Only good girls get to come,” he said quickening his pace.

“Ooooo yes… I’ll be a good girl, promise… I wanna come!” she cried.

“And you’ll do whatever I say from now on, won’t you?” he asked.

“Ooooh, oh yes, yes, Professor, whatever you want,” she crooned as she neared her climax. 

“Good, come for me then, you little slut, come!” he said thrusting his fingers in and out her rapidly until Hermione cried out and shuddered in his grip.

Once she had settled, Harry removed his fingers and his grip on her arms, pulling her knickers completely off and pushing down her skirt before sitting her up again. 

“Now, then, you’ll start earning your ‘O’ properly,” he said. “I believe you just said that you would do anything.”

Hermione looked up at him feeling her guilt rise again. “Please, sir, I did what you asked,” she said with pleading eyes.

“Oh, no, the course grade is cumulative. That was just a pop quiz; the real test is much harder, now stand up,” he ordered.

Hermione abruptly stood up, shaking out her arms, looking down at Harry in apprehension. 

She was considering telling him that this had gone far enough and that she was too painfully aware of what they were doing, more so than she had ever been, but she also didn’t want him to think that she as selfish and wouldn’t help him towards his release.

“You’re quite the screamer. We’ll have to do something about that,” he said as he picked up her school tie.

Hermione shook her head. “Please, don’t, sir. I’ve never had sex before,”

Harry snickered. “I highly doubt that, but we’ll find out soon enough,” he said as he wrapped the tied securely around her mouth, tying a knot at the back of her head. 

“There, we wouldn’t want anyone to walk by and think something was wrong would we?” 

Hermione huffed through the gag in her mouth as Harry bent her over the desk, his hand firmly on the back of her neck holding her down. She heard him undoing his trousers and began to struggle, but he held her steady. 

“I see you parading about in the hallways, flaunting yourself, acting as if you don’t know they all want to fuck you. But, I know that you know,” he said pushing her skirt back up and exposing her bare arse once more.


	6. Abuse of Power

Hermione rose a few hours early to work on a rough draft of a report she had been struggling to complete. After a fresh shower and a few cups of tea, she felt back to her old self and was able to get a fair amount done. 

She reluctantly admitted to herself that since she and Harry had begun fooling around, she had been letting things slip at work. She had been slow in returning owls, following up on simple things, and completing things she had set early deadlines to complete. 

It wasn’t as if she and Harry had frequent sex, but she was definitely more relaxed, and found herself thinking of him entirely too much to really delve into work the way she used to. Before the affair had started, she used to work to escape, working longer hours than necessary and performing tasks she could have easily delegated to her subordinates. Still, she reasoned that even on her worst day she did more than most of the Minister’s other top advisors. 

When she came back upstairs to get changed for work, she saw that Ron was wide-awake, staring up at the ceiling. 

“Oh, you’re awake,” she said going to the wardrobe. 

“Yeah, can’t really sleep,” he said. 

“Did you try taking some Sleeping Draught?”

“Nah, I don’t like the way it makes me feel when I wake up,” he said, covering his eyes briefly with his hands. 

Hermione nodded, surveying her choices of robes. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Ron said. “I’ve a message for you. Miss Stevenson says she’s been trying to reach you.” He sat up to look at her. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “I told her I’d contact her once the case was finished.”

“Yeah, well, she said it’s about to be settled.”

“Is that so?” Hermione said, suddenly interested.

“Yeah, but she said you’d probably already know that,” he said, watching her.

She smiled tightly. “Yes, of course.”

“Says she’s been trying to reach you almost every day and you’ve been ignoring her.”

Hermione huffed. “That’s simply not true! I’m just very busy! Honestly, some of these activists are a bit neurotic.”

Ron shrugged. “She didn’t seem high strung to me.”

“Maybe I should send you to deal with her then,” she snapped. 

Ron stared back at her dumbfounded. 

Hermione realized she was being bitchy and looked back at him apologetically. “I’m sorry… it’s just that it’s frustrating that she thinks I’m ignoring her simply because I have other things to tend to. As if I’m supposed to drop everything to meet with her. I mean honestly!”

“Well, it certainly isn’t like you to just ignore someone; maybe her owl has been sending things to the wrong address.”

“Yes, that must be it,” she said with a weary sigh.

Ron continued to study her quietly as she got dressed, and then cleared his throat.

“She uh, she also said that she owes you a lunch. Said you had to run and couldn’t stay to eat with her,” he said with a slight question in his voice.

“That’s sweet of her,” Hermione replied. 

“I guess you were really busy that day?” he asked. 

Hermione paused momentarily, and then quickly recovered, continuing to dress. 

“Yes, I suppose so,” she said. 

“Isn’t that the day I offered to take you to lunch?” he asked not so casually. 

Hermione turned around slowly, a strange expression on her face. “I don’t really remember, but if it’s like most days, I hardly have time to sit down and eat before I have to run off to the next meeting.”

Ron nodded. “Maybe you should slow down at work.”

“That’s funny Ron; you know how much the Minister depends on me. He’s made me his spokesperson on several advisory committees, and has put me in charge of reviewing regulatory statutes that haven’t been touched in years. Not to mention the fact that I’m in the middle of a huge dragon industry investigation that I have to give a report on by the end of next week! And then on top of that, I have to play nice with people like Miss Stevenson so I can help the Ministry avoid political nightmares. It’s a wonder I even have time to sleep!” 

“You used to have time,” he said softly.

Hermione threw her hands up. “What do you want, Ron?”

“I want us to be the way we were.” 

Hermione shook her head. “Look, I really don’t have time for this, I’m going to be late,” she said, putting on her shoes. 

Ron threw off the duvet and swung his legs over the bed, gripping the edge of it like a man hanging off of a cliff. “Hermione, listen; let me take you out to lunch today. You don’t have to meet me, I’ll drop by your job. I mean, you have to eat, right?”

“Ron, I can’t, okay? If you want lunch with me, we can schedule something a few weeks in advance, and then you’ll get an hour all to yourself.”

“I bet if I worked for the Elf Liberation Group you’d find time.”

Turning sharply, Hermione eyes narrowed in anger. “Don’t you dare! That’s my job! What do you want me to do, quit? “

“No, but I want you to make real time for us. Not this bullshit ‘quality time,’” Ron complained. “It’s so damn stupid; we don’t even touch each other.” 

Hermione folded her arms over her chest. “Is that what this is about? Sex?”

“You know it’s more than that, Hermione. You used to make real time for me… for us. Even when you were swamped at work. When you came home, you wanted to spend time with me, remember? We couldn’t get enough of each other.” 

“What do you want me to do, Ronald? This isn’t all my fault, you know. When I come home now, you have to go to work. If it’s that important to you, why don’t you change _your_ schedule?!”

Ron nodded, thinking. “You know, I think I might do that.”

“What?”

“I said I think I’ll put in for a shift change, and if I can’t get one, then maybe a transfer to another unit. Something’s got to give, Hermione, and if me changing shifts will get us back on track, then that’s just what I’ll do.”

Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath and then went over to sit on the bed beside Ron. 

“Ron, I appreciate that you’d do that, but it’s not about your schedule. I’m just… look, things are crazy for me right now. As soon as things slow down, I’ll be able to focus on… this, just give me some time, please,” she said, looking at him and wishing it would be enough for him to back down.

Ron looked away for a few moments before staring back up at her. He gave her a slight head nod and a sad smile. “All right, but our marriage needs to take priority. I don’t want to lose you.”

He reached out to give her a hug and Hermione met him halfway, returning his tight embrace. When she tried to pull away, he held on to her like he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to for quite some time. Hermione felt a lump in her throat at the desperation she felt coming from him. She wrinkled her nose as she smelled a faint scent of cigarette smoke.

“Do you smell smoke?”

Ron pulled back. “No, I don’t smell anything,” he said with a dodgy expression.

She looked at him suspiciously and then gave him a small peck on the cheek.

“I’ll try to get on your calendar,” he said.

“And I’ll make sure you do within the week.”

“Okay. I love you, ’Mione.” 

“Oh, Ron,” she said, not quite knowing what to say to that.

~~~*~~~

As she strode out of her last meeting for the day, Hermione’s footsteps quickened as she thought of the report she needed to finish and the many other things she needed to catch up on. As she approached her office, she saw her assistant Cathy Bowers stand up hastily.

“Mrs. Weasley,” the woman said urgently. 

“Not now, Cathy,” Hermione said, pausing pick up the bundle of letters set aside as important off of the woman’s desk. “I’m working on the Hoffman report. Get me everything you can on their Romanian dragon imports; I need complaints, suits, and audit reviews. Oh, and a list of all of the types of dragons they’ve had shipped from that territory as well their primary clientele for those particular dragons,” she said as she continued to walk towards the door of her office. 

“Yes but—”

“Cathy, the Minister wants a draft by Wednesday, so it’s really important that no one disturbs me!”

“Mrs. Wealsey!”

Hermione huffed and turned around. “What?”

“Mr. Harry Potter is here to see you,” Cathy said quickly, her face flushed with embarrassment.

“Harry? Where?” Hermione asked, her eyebrows raised. 

“He’s—he’s waiting for you in your office. I know I shouldn’t have let him in, but he’s so… I mean… he’s Harry Potter!” she said with a star struck look on her face. “And well, I didn’t think you’d mind. I’m sorry, if you want, I can—”

“It’s okay Cathy, it’s fine. Thank you.”

Hermione walked into her office to find Harry sitting down at her desk, his legs propped up, and his arms behind his head. She shut the door and did a silencing spell on it.

“Harry! Get your feet off of my desk!”

“Where’s my coffee?” Harry asked, looking at her expectantly.

Hermione shook her head and looked around the room before staring back at Harry. 

“Harry, I’m not sure what you mean, but whatever it is that you want, it’ll have to wait,” she in a scolding hushed whisper. “We’re can’t do this here. There is surveillance everywhere.” 

She tilted her head towards the area where the wards were the strongest to emphasize her point.

There was an audible crackle as the air became hot, and then there was a loud popping sound, that made her jump and look about anxiously. The surveillance wards dissipated, leaving sparkles of dust where they had been before disappearing. 

She clapped her hand to her mouth. “How’d you do that?”

Harry smiled.

Hermione shook her head. “Cute Harry, now if you’re quite finished showing off your hidden skill at wandless magic, you’ll notice that I also have a huge office window facing the inside courtyard. Half of the Ministry and anyone walking through can look up and see us!”

Harry glanced at the huge window and smirked mischievously. “Anyone?”

“Harry, please!”

Harry put his feet down and sat up in the chair, folding his hands together on the desk, and stared at her hard. 

“Miss Granger, if I have to ask you for my coffee one more time, you might as well gather your things and start looking for another job,” he said threateningly.

Hermione groaned. “Fine! Fire me! Now if that’s what you came in here for Harry, then you may as well leave! You’ve crossed the line this time, this is my job!”

“Maybe you don’t understand the conditions of your contract, Miss Granger,” he said, standing up slowly. “I believe it contains a clause that you agreed to,” he said, his voice becoming lower as he walked slowly around the desk.

Hermione began to back up to keep space between them.

“It clearly says, in addition to your stated duties, you’ll perform ‘all other tasks as assigned’… am I correct?” he asked, staring at her hard.

Hermione shook her head. “Harry, please…”

“Please what? Let you keep your job?” he asked as he closed the gap between them, pressing himself against her. “Or,” he said as he reached around and grabbed a fistful of hair. “Are you begging me to fuck you like the whore I hired you to be,” he said as he pulled her head back.

His mouth closed over hers demandingly, and he bit her lip so that he could thrust his tongue inside of hers possessively. After completely ravaging her mouth, he pulled her head back more, breaking the kiss and then looked down at her exposed throat and grinned. He continued to hold her head back as he began to run his tongue along her neck, nipping and sucking.

“Harry, don’t, no marks, please.”

He let go of her hair and pointed his wand at her. Hermione held her breath unsure of what he was going to do and then realized that her robe had been removed. She looked around the room to see where he had spelled it. 

He took advantage of her distracted gaze and abruptly turned her around so that she was facing the direction of the window. He grabbed a handful of her hair once more and began to push her towards the window. 

“You’re going to get us both in trouble!” she whined, trying with all of her strength to resist being pushed. 

But she couldn’t; he had her hair in his hand, and she was no match for his strength. He felt like a moving brick wall and suddenly she was approaching the window too quickly and in slow motion at the same time until her body was pressed against the cool glass. She clenched her eyes shut, afraid to look out until Harry leaned in closer to whisper in her ear. 

“Open your eyes.”

She gulped and looked out. There were several dozens of people walking through the courtyard, a few people here and there sitting and having conversation, all they had to do was to look up to see her.

Harry reached down around slid a hand up her shirt, groping each of her breasts. 

“Are you scared that everyone will find out what your real job is?” he asked, pulling up her skirt and kicking her legs apart.

Hermione thought about trying to fight back but realized that it would draw more attention to her form in the window.

“Harry, this is too much,” she whispered.

“Are you telling me you’re not going to work today, Miss Granger?” he asked pausing.

Hermione pushed herself back against him. She could feel his erection, and her body couldn’t help but squirm in response. When she did, Harry pulled her hips up against his cock forcibly at the same time he pushed her harder into the window so that her chest was flush against the glass. 

“Perhaps you need reminding of why I really hired you. Forget all the other tripe in your job description,” he said, pulling her knickers down, exposing her arse to him.

He quickly slid two fingers inside her, and she was embarrassed that despite all her protests and her hesitation of being exposed publicly that she was rather wet. Harry chuckled softly as he began to finger fuck her. Hermione heard herself moaning. 

“You’re here to please my cock,” he said as he removed his fingers making her whimper at the loss of contact. “Isn’t that right?” he asked sternly as he pushed her harder into the glass. 

She tried to look back at him but his grip on her hair was tight and so she found herself forced to look down to see if anyone was looking up at them. They seemed oblivious, but how long would that last? 

She heard him undoing his trousers and then felt the warm smooth head of his cock positioned at her entrance.

“I asked you a question!” he said, waiting for her to respond. 

“Y-Yes, sir,” she said. 

He gripped her hip hard with his hand and with one rough movement he plunged himself inside of her. Hermione gasped and tried to grip the glass with her fingertips so as not to draw attention to her body colliding with the glass as Harry fucked her into it.

“I don’t pay you to sass me,” he said sliding out before sheathing himself back inside her again. “This is what I pay for… your cunt,” he said, smacking her arse. “And I intend to make full use of it.”

Hermione could feel herself slipping into the role more easily the more he talked. Even though she was angry with him, it felt good to let go of her stress and just be the slutty subordinate getting shagged against ‘the Minister’s’ office window. She heard herself moaning and knew she was totally his.

Harry pulled back on her hair once more and leaned in as he began a relentless rhythm. “Ah, now, if this job no longer… ugh… interests you… let me know and I’ll… let you go right here… right now,” he grunted as he drove himself into her over and over again.

Hermione didn’t respond verbally, instead she began fucking him back, bucking herself against him, frantic to find her release. But, before she arrived at it, Harry pulled out. 

She felt herself being pulled back off of the window. He pushed her over towards her desk. Drawing out his wand he levitated everything on her desk and settled them down in place on the floor. 

“Why is it that I’m doing all the work here?” he said once again taking a seat in her chair. “I’m paying you good money, how about giving me a show,” he said looking up at the top of her desk. “Go on, earn your pay!”

As Harry leaned back, Hermione found herself growing a bit irritated. Not only had he stopped right when she was about to come, but had he pulled this stunt at her job and threatened to humiliate her in public. And now he wanted her to strip for him? Well he wasn’t the only one that could pull a trick of two. 

She smirked and walked back over to the window to pick up her wand. She muttered a spell under her breath that darkened the window considerably, and then pointed her wand up at the ceiling, changing the flame from white to a muted red. 

She turned around to face the corner bookshelf where a small wooden wireless set sat and flicked her wand until the station settled on a love song channel, which was playing a slow sensual melody. Perfect.

She walked over to the desk, keeping her eyes Harry, who was staring back at her in poorly disguised amazement. She smiled seductively before putting her hands on the desk and climbing on top of it as gracefully as she could until she was on all fours. 

Flipping her hair over to one side, she looked down at him over her shoulder before crouching lower and stretching her back out like a cat. She stood up and looked down at him, and then began to grind her hips to the music. She saw him swallow and suppressed the urge to smirk. She began turning around slowly so that her arse was facing him, giving him a view up her skirt. 

When she was sure he was becoming impatient to see more, she bent over and grabbed her ankles and looked at him between her legs. Harry looked absolutely spellbound. Whatever he had been expecting, it was clear this was not it. 

She slid her hands up her ankles towards her calves and then up her thighs, lifting her skirt slowly, until her bare arse was fully exposed to him once more. Keeping her eyes on him from between her legs, she wiggled her arse at him. 

“Now that’s the woman I hired,” he said in an unsteady voice. 

She smiled and then stood up, turning around and began unbuttoning her top. Harry began to stroke himself watching her, and she found herself both proud and aroused that she had caused such a reaction. 

When her shirt was completely undone, she swung it over her shoulder and then moved her hands behind her back to unclip her bra, flinging it at Harry. He caught it, and swung on his finger, never taking his eyes of her. 

Hermione palmed her breasts and squeezed them together and then bent down to take her own nipple in her mouth. Harry moaned. Her hands slid down her belly and then quickly she dropped her skirt before getting back on her knees to look down at him. 

Harry sat up straight, and reached up to pull her mouth toward his for a passionate kiss. 

“Spread your legs, I want to taste my pussy,” he whispered against her lips.

Hermione fell back, lifting her legs and spreading them before him. Harry wasted no time diving down between her legs, finding what he wanted. His tongue lapped at her folds and then began sucking on her clit, making her claw at the surface of the desk. When she thought he would pull away again, she put both of her hands on top of his head and wrapped her legs around his neck securely. Harry moaned into her cunt, sending vibrations throughout body and she came in his mouth, shouting out his name. 

Despite the fact that she was shaking, Harry didn’t let her rest. Instead, he stood up and pushed himself into her fast and hard, holding both of her legs over his shoulders. 

“Oh… oh Gods, no more, please,” she cried.

“You still want that raise you asked for?”

“Yes…. yes Minister,” she murmured, feeling delirious in her arousal despite feeling somewhat spent.

“Then show me… show me your worth,” he said, dipping the head of his cock into her wet center once more before moving it lower towards her narrower entrance. 

“Minister, please…” she whimpered.

“More money, means more sacrifice,” he said, fumbling to find his wand. Once he found it, he muttered a spell and Hermione felt her arsehole become slick with a warm lubricant of some sort.

He pushed slowly and Hermione could feel her whole body tensing as he did. It hurt, but not as much as she thought it would, still she couldn’t help but bite her lip as he continued. 

When he finally had most of his length in her, she saw him looking down at her in concern. She gave him a small smile and he closed his eyes and began to pull out a little before pushing himself back in carefully.

He used her legs to help him steady himself as he began a slow and steady pace. The pain was fading into a dull ache and the throbbing in her pussy lessened it more. 

Harry’s grunts and moans were increasing her arousal, and she found herself lifting her hips, encouraging him to take her harder. Harry quickly got the message and began to increase his pace, pounding into her arse harder. 

“Oh, Minister… mmm, yes, fuck my arse,” she moaned.

That was enough to send Harry over to the brink as he tightened his hold on her legs and came with a loud guttural growl.

They both remained in that position panting, looking at each other, when Harry looked down at her and broke into a smile.

“I think you’ve earned a bonus; good work!”

Hermione slapped at his hand and gave him an annoyed look. “Oh, come off of it, I have work to do.”

No sooner than she said that did a voice come in over the monitor on her desk. “Mrs. Weasley?”

Harry slid out of her, and did a cleaning spell on both of them while Hermione reached over to press the talk button. 

“What is it Cathy?” 

“Your husband is here to see you,” the woman said excitedly. 

Hermione and Harry stared at each other with wide fearful eyes. 

“I see. Please tell him I’ll be out shortly. I’m in the middle of a long distance Floo call with the International Unicorn Protection Agency.” 

“Yes, Ma’am.” 

“International Unicorn Protection Agency?” Harry whispered looking at her doubtfully.

“Yeah, I spoke with them earlier, so it’ll check out,” Hermione said, quickly running around the room picking up her clothes.

“I suppose I should go, then,” Harry said looking at her as if he didn’t know how to exit.

Hermione stopped and turned to look at him with a stern expression. “Right, but we need to talk.”

Harry looked back at her confused.

She shook her head and made a shooing motion with her hand. “Not now of course. Meet me tonight after you play house with Ginny,” she said snippily.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “Fine,” he said before Apparating away.

Hermione quickly got dressed, fixed the light in her office, levitated the items on her desk back on top in their proper place, straightened her hair, and walked over to open the door.

“Ron!”

“Hey ’Mione, I know you said that you wouldn’t have time, but I figured you have to eat, so I thought I’d take the chance. We could go for a quick bite in the Snack Shop,” he said, bracing himself for her rejection.

Hermione looked around to see Cathy beaming at Ron in an approving manner.

“That’s so sweet!” she said, smiling at the couple. “Mrs. Weasley, I can easily move around some things if you like to give you two some time together.”

Ron turned around to look at Hermione with a hopeful expression. 

Hermione inwardly groaned and felt herself tense. She hadn’t worked on her report at all, and she really didn’t have the time, but she knew she would look positively evil if she sent Ron away right now. She smiled stiffly. “Sure, that’s fine, thank you, Cathy.”

She turned back to look at Ron but he was gone. She turned around to step into her office where he had wandered. 

“So this is where you work? I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in here before,” he said looking around.

“Oh yeah, right; you’ve only seen my old office. This is where they moved me after my promotion,” she said.

“Nice! You got a big window and everything,” he said looking at the huge window.

Hermione held her breath looking at the darkened window. Damn it, she’d forgotten to take the charm off!

Ron frowned. “Why is your window tinted like that?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t mind it, keeps the distractions away.”

“You’re on the fourth floor, what could be distracting in your window?”

“Oh, you know, the light plays with windows in funny ways,” she said sounding more aloof than she usually did.

Ron took in a big sniff and his frowned deepened. “It smells funny in here.”

“What do you mean?”

He turned back and looked at her curiously for several moments before a smile reappeared on his face. “Nothing, my mind is a little jumbled, not used to being up at this hour, you know.”

Hermione smiled, looking slightly relieved. “Right, well, shall we?”

Ron eyes lit up and he offered his arm to her.

As they left her office, Hermione found herself letting out a relieved sigh until her assistant looked up and spoke. 

“Mr. Potter won’t be joining you two?”

Ron stopped and looked at Hermione. “Harry’s at work. Did you two have a lunch appointment or something?” he asked, looking puzzled.

“No, he just dropped by, wanted to check on how I was doing.”

“Oh,” Ron said, looking at her with a blank expression. “I guess I just missed him then?”

“Um, not really, I had that Floo-call so he left some time ago,” she said, trying to sound relaxed.

Ron looked down at Cathy who was busy combing through several folders of papers. He looked back up at Hermione and gave her a stiff smile. “Well, that’s too bad; it would have been nice to grab a bite with him. It’s been a long time since the three of us hung out the way we used to,” he said.

“Yeah, it’s a shame, really. Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m starved,” she said, quickly pulling him along.

~~~*~~~

When Harry arrived home from work, he found himself in a foul mood. He didn’t really want to talk to anyone. He didn’t like the way Hermione had reacted to him when he showed up today. He didn’t understand why she had been so rude to him when she saw him in her office and definitely didn’t understand her curt comments after they had had sex.

The last thing he needed was more female tantrums and so he quickly went up to take a long shower to give himself some space to clear his head before he faced Ginny.

When he came out of the shower, Ginny was waiting for him in a sexy maid uniform with garters, thigh highs with a seam up the back and high heels. The smell of a delicious feast was rising up from downstairs. 

“Dinner’s ready,” she purred as she sauntered her way over to him. She slid her hands up his almost dry chest and gave him a slow lingering kiss that he just barely returned.

“Ginny, you shouldn’t have,” he said a little more harshly than he wanted to right now. He made his way over to the wardrobe and pulled out a pair of denims and a t-shirt and slipped on his favorite lounging trainers.

Ginny frowned. “Why wouldn’t I? You’re my husband; I want to do things for you. Now, let’s go down and have a nice dinner, and then we’ll talk about your options for dessert,” she said, wriggling her eyebrows suggestively.

Harry felt himself glued to the floor. He couldn’t look at her. He felt both guilt and fatigue as he thought of the charade he had to keep up for the evening. She was expecting him to be a loving, attentive, completely enamored husband, and he just couldn’t do it right now. It was a lie he was too tired to engage in, especially today. 

“I can’t.”

“What?”

“Ginny, I can’t, okay? I promised a friend that I would go see about them later. I really appreciate you doing all of this, but—”

“You’re not even going to eat?”

“Sure Ginny, let’s eat,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her towards the stairs. 

Ginny snatched her hand away. “What the hell is going on Harry?”

“Please don’t start. I’ve had a rough day,” he said with a look of warning on his face. 

“Who are you?” she asked searching his face.

“What do you mean?” he asked perplexed.

“What I mean is that you’re different. You’re distant, you’re always tired or out. We’re newlyweds for Gods’ sake, we’re supposed to be shagging like bunnies, and you haven’t touched me in weeks!”

Harry shook his head. “Ginny, I’m just going through something right now. It’s hard to explain.”

“I’ll say! You don’t talk to me either. You don’t seem to care enough to even act interested in what I’m doing.”

Harry’s temper broke. “Other than driving me mad about decorating the house and Quidditch, what else could you possibly be doing?”

Ginny drew back as if Harry had slapped her. He didn’t seem to notice. 

“Look, I told you that Ron and I are going to your first Quidditch scrimmage, what more do you want?”

Ginny grew red in the face and began to take off her heels. “Don’t bother! I wouldn’t want you to wear yourself out trying to support me!”

“Ginny…”

“No, Harry, go eat the damn dinner if you want, I don’t give a shit. Just leave me alone right now!” she said pushing him out of the doorframe and slamming the door. 

Harry stood at the door for a few moments before Apparating to the Weasley residence.

~~~*~~~

When Harry opened their gate, Hermione heard her security wards announce his arrival. She opened the door with a scowl and walked back into the living room. Harry closed the door behind him and followed her. She kept her back turned for several moments before turning around.

“What the hell was that today?” she asked angrily.

“What? You seemed to be enjoying yourself,” he said defensively.

“That’s not the point. What you did today was very risky and foolish, what if we were caught?”

“I knew we wouldn’t be; no one really pays attention to the offices, and you’re on the fourth floor, so no one can really see anything.” 

“Except for the people across the courtyard on the same level!”

“I wasn’t beside you in the window, I was behind you. I’m not stupid Hermione,” he said bitterly.

“No, you’re just hard headed and reckless sometimes, Harry, and this time you went too far,” she said in exasperation.

Harry balled his fists by his side. “What are you trying to say? You want to end this?”

Hermione sighed and shook her head. “No, Harry, that’s not what I’m saying. It’s just that… well, you can’t do that again,” she said in a softer tone.

“All right, I’ll tone it down a little,” he said sheepishly.

Hermione studied him for a moment and shifted a little uneasily. 

Harry noticed. “What is it?”

“When did you start doing wandless magic?” she asked tentatively.

Harry shrugged. “I’ve always been able to do it, but since I joined the Academy, I’ve been perfecting it.”

“Do they know you can do that?”

“No, and it’s none of their business,” he said guardedly.

“What else can you do that you haven’t told anyone,” she asked, casting a suspicious look.

Harry narrowed his eyes. “I don’t think I like your tone, Hermione. What exactly is on your mind?”

“It’s almost like you’re too good at it,” she said cautiously.

“What do you mean?” he asked with an edge in his voice.

“I mean, all of these scenarios. It’s as if you’ve given them a lot of thought. Sometimes it feels like you’ve done them before.” 

“I’m sorry? What exactly are you trying to imply?” he asked, anger now apparent in his voice. 

“I’m not accusing you of anything, Harry, but I can’t help but wonder if you have ever seriously thought about doing some of the things we’ve played out.” 

There, she had finally said what she had been thinking since their encounter in alley.

Harry gaped back at Hermione with a shocked and hurt look that almost broke her heart. “You’re the one that asked me to take you without asking, and you have the nerve to call me an undercover rapist?”

Hermione swallowed. “Harry, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s just that… sometimes it’s a bit disturbing how good you are at it." She gnawed at her bottom lip anxiously, bracing for his reaction.

Harry looked her over slowly as if he didn't recognize her. “Is that right? Well, you don’t have to worry about it anymore, Hermione, I won’t be _disturbing_ you again!” he said, backing away from her.

“Harry!” 

“Stay away from me!” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll contact you if I want to see you again,” he said before Apparating away. 

Hermione felt the tears welling up in her eyes as she looked at the spot where he had just been standing. She pounded her fists on the door until they hurt and then stood there, letting it hold her up as she held back a sob.


	7. Exit Planning

Harry Disapparated away from the Weasley residence in a fit of anger. He could not believe Hermione had suggested that he wanted to actually rape someone.

He went to the first place that popped into his head − Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. As Harry stood on the street staring at the front door, he thought of the greeting he would receive if he dared step inside. The last thing he needed to hear was another female screaming at him, and so instead, he took a long walk. 

Strolling by the local park he and Ginny often visited in the months leading up to their wedding, he found a deserted park bench near a small pond. Nearly an hour passed before he moved. His thoughts were heavy, filled with the things Hermione had said. He probably could have spent the night on the bench, but a Muggle police officer insisted on clearing everyone out the park. Out of ideas for places to go, Harry began the long walk back home.

When he arrived, the house was deadly silent. Tiptoeing upstairs, he discovered the bedroom door was locked. He withdrew his wand to open it, but then thought better of it and turned towards the guest bedroom.

As he settled onto the daybed to sleep, his thoughts were still racing; he thought of the first time he had risked revealing his feelings to Hermione. The memory of his sweaty palms and inability to breathe as he waited for her to reject him, or worse, end their friendship was as clear as if it were yesterday. And then he remembered the relief and excitement he'd felt when he realized Hermione felt the same way about him. 

When she had invited him to go even further, Harry had struggled with anxiety and guilt. It only increased after he had wrestled her down and bound her before taking her on the floor. 

Unknown to Hermione, when Harry went home that night, he had to take Sleeping Draught to calm himself. He, too, had been unnerved about how easily he had fallen into the role of a man who could use coercion and brute force to overpower someone for sex. The only thing that had helped him quell the guilt of acting on such a perverse role was the knowledge that Hermione had asked him to do it. 

Harry realized he hadn’t really thought about the roles he was playing as anything more than role-play. But now, for the first time since that first night, he allowed himself to really reflect on it. 

Truthfully, he didn’t know where it came from or why it seemed to come to him so naturally. If Harry didn’t know himself better, he may have also come to the conclusion that perhaps he had some type of latent desire to force himself on someone. 

But he did know himself, and he knew that the thought of actually coercing and exploiting someone sexually turned his stomach. He also knew that he wouldn’t want to play the games they played with anyone else, not even Ginny. He was certain that the only reason why he felt so comfortable doing the things he did with Hermione was because they shared mutual fantasies and beneath the power play, there was and always would be trust, love, and respect. 

So, for once, Hermione was wrong. 

Still, that didn’t help soothe the nagging voice in Harry’s head that told him they needed to discuss it. Perhaps they should have been talking about the implications of engaging in such play as soon as they had started doing it. 

But it would have to wait. Right now, Harry didn’t want to talk, even wasn’t even sure when he would be ready to see her again. The fact that he loved Hermione very much only made her last words ten times more hurtful. 

A part of him almost welcomed the distance and the pain; he felt he deserved it for cheating on his new wife, and betraying a close friend. 

By the time he drifted off to sleep, Harry had convinced himself that that this was karma and he deserved more than a little misery for what he had started.

~~~*~~~

_A week later_

Hermione woke with a start as Ron came stomping through their bedroom door. He turned on all the lights and threw his bag down on the floor loudly. He was home nearly an hour early for the third night in a row.

Hermione squinted her eyes, trying to adjust to the light. “Ron, wake up the whole neighborhood why don’t you?”

“Sorry,” Ron said, scanning the room suspiciously.

“What are you doing?” Hermione demanded. “You never turn on the lights when you come home; you usually use your wand.”

“I don’t feel like messing with it right now,” he said dismissively looking about.

“You’re home early again?” she said, glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Yeah,” Ron said.

She waited for an explanation. Ron simply stared back at her, searching her eyes for what Hermione wasn’t sure. 

What he did next was quite odd. 

Ron walked over to the wardrobe, opened it quickly as if he were expecting something to pop out of it. Then he quickly closed it and went to the bathroom, repeating the same action as he opened its door before going down the hall for a moment and then returning. 

“What’s going on?” she asked perplexed.

“Nothing. _Nox._ ” he said, shutting out the lights and undressing in the dark. When he climbed into bed, he didn’t try to touch or cuddle up to Hermione the way he usually did, instead, he stayed at the far end with his back to her.

They lay in an unspoken tension for almost an hour until, finally, Hermione heard his faint snore. She relaxed a little.

For the past week Ron had been becoming steadily more suspicious and distant with her. At first she hadn’t noticed, her thoughts were preoccupied with reconnecting with Harry. 

She actually thought that Ron’s behavior was ironic and a bit funny. He was suspicious _now_ , when she wasn’t even doing anything. Still, it bothered her that he had begun to just pop up at her office to take her to lunch, and how he had grown particularly observant about the slightest changes in her behavior and schedule. 

And her schedule had changed. She had fallen back into her depression and found it hard to do her work. But instead of sleeping all day, she stayed at the office as long as possible to avoid going home and running into him. This didn’t go unnoticed by Ron, who had initially asked her why he never saw her anymore. When she gave him a vague answer about extra work, instead of pressing more like he usually did, he let the subject drop and never brought it back up again. 

At the moment, Hermione really didn’t care what Ron suspected. She only cared about finding a way to talk to Harry. She felt that she had been misunderstood and that she may have said some things in resentment because of what he had pulled at her office. She wanted him to understand her, to realize how much she loved him. 

Ever since their fight, she had been miserable, especially since Harry had refused to answer her owls. She had been sending out unmarked owls to his job and home almost twice a day, trying to get him to talk to her. She even dropped by the Auror’s station a few times, only to find that he was never there. 

As she lay in the bed thinking of how it felt to have Harry not speaking to her, and how much happier she had been when they were talking about their possible future together, one thing became absolutely certain and she knew she could no longer pretend it wasn’t.

What they had had nothing to do with sex, as mind blowing as it was; she was meant to be with Harry, and only Harry, and she had to let him know that as soon as possible.

~~~*~~~

Ron woke up the next morning when he felt Hermione leave the bed. He quickly opened his eyes and let them follow her across the room as she disappeared into the bathroom.

The tension he felt when he came home early last night was the worst it had ever been. There were no words spoken about it, but both of them knew that something was wrong. Ron didn’t know what was wrong, but his thoughts kept telling him that all the signs were there. 

She no longer had any time for him, she had been working late a lot, she no longer wanted him to touch her, and she would have unexplained mood swings that didn’t make any sense. If it weren’t for the fact that she had been in usually high spirits for the past several weeks while remaining distant with him, he would have blamed it all on her job. 

But he had never seen her _that_ happy before, and even now he had never seen her this sad, and she had gone from one extreme to another in such a short amount of time. He knew it had nothing to do with her job, which she had no problem complaining or boasting about before. 

Whatever it was that had given her a different glow over the past several weeks was now gone, and it must have been something powerful enough to leave the shadow that now crossed her face even darker than it had been before her sudden change. 

As she came out of the bathroom he sat up and took a deep breath. “You’ve changed,” he said bluntly.

Hermione paused and turned to look at him before sighing and dropping the towel wrapped around her and going to the wardrobe. 

“People do that you know,” she said as she began to dress.

“Yeah, and usually when they do, it’s not overnight, it takes a while,” Ron said.

“I’m sorry I can’t evolve around your schedule, Ron,” she said coolly.

“I thought when we got married, we’d evolve together,” he said softly.

“Just because we’re married, doesn’t mean we have to be the same person. It’s not like we share a brain. We’re different, Ron, and I think we’re more different now than we’ve ever been before,” she said, shaking her head.

“At least you are,” he said staring at her.

“I’m so sorry I’ve grown up a bit!” Hermione said, throwing up her hands. 

“Is that what you call it?” he asked bitterly.

“If growing up means becoming more committed to your job and developing new interests, then yes, I’ve grown up,” she said as she walked over to the bed to face him.

“New interests, huh? Funny, I sort of thought you lost interest,” he said with a question in his voice.

“Sometimes that happens when you grow up,” she said softly.

Ron nodded, his eyes watering. “I’m glad you said it… saves me the trouble of asking.” 

“I’m sorry, Ron” she said, her eyes filling with tears.

“I’m sorry, too,” he said, rising from the bed and going to the wardrobe to retrieve his bag. 

“What are you doing?”

“I won’t be here when you come back tonight. I’m going to my parents’ for a few days.” 

“You don’t have to leave!”

“No… I can’t be here,” he said.

Hermione stood and watched as he raided the drawers, wardrobe, and bathroom for necessities before leaving the room and slamming the door.

~~~*~~~

Harry had gotten a note from Ron to meet him for drinks after his shift ended. He thought the request was strange considering Ron had to work his shift right when Harry’s ended.

He showed up at the small pub Ron named and looked around to see Ron in a booth, looking forlorn. Ron looked up and caught Harry’s eye. Harry smiled and started walking over. 

“Hey, mate,” Harry said cheerfully.

“Hi,” Ron said, looking at Harry speculatively.

“How’s it going? Shouldn’t you be at work?” Harry asked taking a seat.

“Nah, I took off, need some time,” Ron said with a sigh.

“You all right?” Harry asked, looking at him in concern. 

“No, I’m not; things aren’t looking too good,” Ron said plainly.

“Yeah?” Harry said, swallowing. He really didn’t want to hear about Hermione right now, especially from Ron.

“Yeah,” Ron said, still eyeing Harry strangely.

“What is it, Ron? Is this about Hermione?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, setting his jaw. “It’s getting worse, she’s totally withdrawn from me, and now she’s said she’s lost interest in me,” he said, watching Harry.

“Oh? She actually said that?” Harry asked, feeling a mixture of guilt and excitement.

“Yeah, I’m staying at my parents’ now,” he said, his eyes taking on a watery quality that made Harry want to groan. 

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Harry said, not really sure if he actually meant that or not.

“I think there’s someone else,” Ron said with a challenge in his voice that made Harry’s stomach clench. 

He felt his body go rigid and he had to swallow before speaking. “What?”

“You heard me; I said I think she’s cheating on me.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“Little things,” Ron said.

“Like what?”

“It’s hard to describe,” Ron said, finally breaking eye contact and staring down at the table.

“Well, you need to try, that’s a pretty damning accusation,” Harry said, trying to hide his relief that Ron didn’t really have anything concrete.

“Did you drop by to see her the other day?” Ron asked, looking up again.

“The other day? If you mean over a week ago, yes; I wanted to see how she was doing,” Harry said matter-of-factly.

“Yeah, she said I had just missed you,” Ron said, keeping his eyes on Harry’s. 

“Oh, is that right?” Harry asked mildly surprised.

“Yeah." He took a deep breath and continued. “You know ever since I told you to check up on her, she’s been better… and worse.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, it was weird, it’s like she seemed happier for a while after you paid her a visit, but she was more distant with me, and now… she’s just not around and when she is, she’s sleeping.”

“And you think I have something to do with that?” Harry asked with disbelief in his voice.

“I don’t know,” Ron said, looking back at him wearily.

“What exactly are you saying, Ron?”

“I don’t know really,” Ron said, looking down at the table and then back up at Harry hard. “Harry, if you knew something about what was going on with her, you’d tell me wouldn’t you?”

Harry nodded slowly. Gods, he was lying so much he had no doubt that Slytherin would be proud to claim him right now. 

“And there’s nothing you want to tell me?”

A waitress came by the table “May I take your orders?”

“No,” Harry said quickly.

“Yes,” Ron said at the same time looking back at Harry.

They stared at each other. Harry trying hard to meet Ron’s gaze, while Ron was still studying Harry’s.

“Go on,” Harry said. 

“Um, I’d like a slice of your peach cobbler and a Butterbeer,” Ron said, finally tearing his eyes away from Harry’s.

Harry felt like his whole body had been drawn into a tight bow threatening to snap at any moment. He couldn’t move. 

Ron chuckled absently and shook his head, which made Harry relax a little. “What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You know, I was just remembering that day in the forest, the day I came back and found you by the lake. You remember that?”

Harry could barely breath, of course, how could he forget that day. “Yeah.”

“That damn locket… ’member what it showed me?”

Harry nodded numbly.

“It was awful, it was like my worst nightmare, besides spiders of course. Seeing you and her like that. But then, you made it all right. You ‘member what you told me, Harry?”

Harry didn’t answer, he was holding his breath.

“You said ‘she’s like my sister, Ron… I love her like a sister.’”

“Right,” Harry said quietly. 

It had been true when he had said then, but so much had changed since then, and he didn’t even know how he could explain exactly when it had changed, just that it had.

Ron put his head in his hands and then straightened up, trying to gain composure. 

“You know, I don’t know what I was looking for when I invited you here,” he said laughing at himself. “I’m so paranoid right now. The thought of losing her… it’s making me mental. You’re my best mate, I know you wouldn’t rip my heart out like that. It’s probably something else… or someone else. I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay Ron, I understand. She’s special, and I know all of this must be hard on you. I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” Harry said apologetically. If only Ron knew how sorry he really was. 

“Well, I’m not letting her go without a fight. I left for the Burrow this morning, but maybe I was being too hasty,” he said looking at Harry for encouragement.

Harry couldn’t find words, he didn’t want to tell Ron to go back. Hermione was his, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell Ron that, not after what he just said, and so he found himself simply nodding.

“Yeah, I think I’ll come back home tonight. Thanks, Harry,” he said giving him a small smile. “You know I’ve been smoking like mad lately,” he said.

“You really should stop, mate,” Harry offered.

Ron shook his head. “That’s the least of my worries right now. I just hope I can quit once this is all over,” he said with a small chuckle.

Harry gave him a small smile. “You gonna be all right?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Ron said as the waitress arrived with his cobbler and Butterbeer.

“Well, I better get going. Ginny’s probably waiting, and you’ve seen her when she’s mad,” he lied again. Ginny hadn’t been around when he got home for the past four nights. 

“For sure, you’d better get out of here,” Ron said. “We’re still on for couples’ night Friday, yeah?” he said.

“Yeah,” Harry said as he rose, dreading being in the presence of all of them. What a charade that was going to be.

“See you then,” he said before walking away, trying to pace himself as he did so as not to bolt for the door and get as far away from Ron as possible.

~~~*~~~

As soon as Harry left, Ron let out a relieved sigh. He had felt awful once he realized what he had been accusing Harry of, and had wanted the ground to open up and swallow him whole instead of facing the shocked expression of his best friend.

He watched Harry leave and then noticed a familiar pretty face framed by soft blonde curls at the bar. It was that elf advocate, but he had forgotten her name. He stared at her for several moments, trying to rack his brain to remember it. Stanley? It started with a S for sure. Stephens? No. Oh, yes, Stevenson. Miss Stevenson. Just as her name popped in his head, she looked over at him and flashed him a friendly smile. 

He smiled and waved her over. She looked pleasantly surprised and hopped off the barstool.

“Well, hello, Mr. Weasley,” she said, flashing the same charming smile. Ron tried not to look her over, but it was hard. She really was quite lovely, and she smelled very good. 

“Hello, Miss Stevenson,” he said standing up and extending his hand to the empty seat across from him. “Please,” he said.

She smiled at him warmly and took a seat. 

Ron sat back down and gave her a curious look. “Fancy running into you here; you don’t look like the pub sort.”

Miss Stevenson quirked an eyebrow and scoffed. “I most certainly am,” she said as she waved the waitress over. “He’ll need another Butterbeer, please,” she said looking at Ron’s depleted glass.

“And what about yourself?” Ron asked.

“I’m actually a whiskey sour sort of witch,” she said smiling. “But I won’t be having anything right now. I’ll just pay for whatever he’s drinking,” she said to the waitress.

Ron looked back at her in surprise. “Whiskey sour? That’s a bit hardcore, don’t you think? Besides, gentleman’s duty, I can pay for my own,” he said.

She laughed. “No, it’s fine Mr. Weasley, I insist, I still owe you for that lovely folder you gave me. I use it all the time now.”

Ron smiled appreciatively.

“Where’s your wife?” she asked. 

“Who knows,” Ron mumbled.

“What?”

He cleared his throat. “She’s probably working. She’s a bit of workaholic, that one.”

She gave him a knowing smile. “Ah, I see, so am I; there’s never enough time in the day to get it all done.”

“Yeah, but you still manage to find time for a stop at the pub,” Ron said looking at her admirably. 

“Well, I’m a firm believer in playing just as hard as you work, besides I need a break before I get back to it,” she said just as the waitress brought Ron his drink.

“You from this area?” Ron asked.

“No, Little Whinging,” she said.

“Ah, my best mate is from there,” he said thinking of Harry, but not wanting to deal with the barrage of questions that mentioning his name usually brought.

“I know. The famous Harry Potter. Everyone knows about him… and you. You two went to Hogwarts together,” she said with a smile. 

“Yep, the best wizarding school there is,” Ron said proudly. 

Miss Stevenson huffed. “The best? Excuse me, but there are other Wizarding schools in and outside of Great Britain that are just as good, if not better!”

“No way. Nothing comes close to Hogwarts,” he said with some false attitude.

She scrunched up her face. “I see they’ve managed to teach you humility,” she said sarcastically.

“And how did a girl from Surrey such as yourself end up not going to Hogwarts?”

“My parents sent me to the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic,” she said proudly.

“Not bad, but I heard they’re better at prancing around with a wand than actually using one,” he teased.

Miss Stevenson chuckled. “I see I’m going to have to school you on the many advantages of attending Beauxbatons.”

“You can try, and I’ll try not to laugh,” he said.

She raised an eyebrow. “On second thought, I think I’ll take that whiskey sour after all.”

Ron smiled and waved the waitress over once more.

~~~*~~~

Harry had been surprised to see that Ginny was actually waiting for him when he arrived home. It was the first time in almost five days he had seen her while she was awake. Her temper was wicked, and she had made it no secret that she wanted him to suffer for what had happened last week.

He came through the front door to find her on the couch, her arms crossed with a letter in her grip and a mangled letter opener cast to the side on the floor.

“You just got another owl!” she said angrily, standing up and walking towards him.

“What’s wrong with that?” he asked, a little annoyed that she had apparently been trying to open his mail.

“You’ve been getting the same owls twice a day for the last week is why! And they aren’t even marked and apparently there’s some sort of charm on them so that I can’t open them!”

“Well, it is my mail, Ginny,” he said, holding his hand out for her to give it to him.

She pushed it in his hand harshly. “This is our house, not just yours! We shouldn’t have any secrets from each other!”

“Is that what you think this is? A secret?” he asked, holding the letter up.

“I don’t know, but it’s very strange that it’s spelled so that I can’t read it. Open it!” she demanded.

“What? Right here?” he asked, looking at her like she had gone mental.

“Yes! Right here, in front of me, I want to see what it says,” she said, crossing her arms once more.

Harry told himself to stay cool and try to reason with her. 

“Why?” he asked, looking amused and confused.

“Why wouldn’t you?” she countered, glaring at him.

Harry shook his head. “You’re being silly Ginny. It’s probably news about my latest case; we’re getting pretty close to nailing someone for that attempted heist at Gringotts.”

“Wouldn’t they tell you that at work? Why would they owl you about it?” she pressed.

“Someone’s always working on the case, even when I have time off. This is just their way to keep me updated.”

Damn he was good. Maybe he _had_ been Sorted into the wrong house. He tried not to crack a smug smirk at that thought.

Ginny’s determination seemed to have waivered and she finally broke her stare with him. “Well, the mail doesn’t say it’s from the Ministry,” she muttered.

“Ginny, they’re not to going to announce their correspondence on everything, especially on a case this important. Now, do you mind?” he asked.

“Fine, Harry, you’re right, it’s your mail,” she said wearily as if she didn’t care anymore.

She sighed and turned around, walking away from him towards the couch. 

Harry felt compelled to say something, anything to end the awkwardness of the past week. “Wait, look… I want to apologize about the other night; I was being a total git.”

Ginny turned around, looking at him expectedly. “Go on,” she said, waiting for more.

“I guess I’m trying to say… Ginny, I’m sorry,” he said weakly, not sure of what else he should say at the moment.

“What you said really hurt me. I didn’t know that trying to make us a perfect home and discussing my career plans was so boring to you.”

“Now that’s not fair, I didn’t say that,” he insisted.

“You didn’t have to!” she blurted out. 

“Well, that’s not what I meant.”

She looked back at him doubtfully.

“Look, Ron wanted to know if we were still on for couples’ night; I told him we were,” he said with a question in his voice. 

He wasn’t sure when he would see her again, and he wanted to see how much damage had actually been done by what he said the other night. 

Ginny gave him a smirk. “Sure thing, Harry. Friday isn’t it?”

Harry sighed in relief. “Yeah.”

“We wouldn’t want anyone to think anything was wrong, we’re newlyweds after all,” she said curtly. “By the way, how’s your friend?”

“What?” Harry asked.

“You said you had to go see about a friend, remember?” she said with a faint smirk on her face.

“Oh… that. Fine… he’s fine,” Harry said, trying to maintain eye contact despite wanting to look anywhere else but her face.

“Anyone I know?” she asked with a hint of mockery in her voice. 

Harry didn’t like the sound of that, but still he shook his head. 

Ginny gave him a knowing smirk. Harry frowned. 

Did she know something?

“It’s good to have friends, Harry. You never know when they’ll come in handy,” she said ominously.

Harry stared back at her, trying to grasp if she was saying what he thought she was saying.

“I’m going out,” she said turning around.

“Where?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” she said, grabbing her purse before Apparating.

Once Ginny left, Harry fell onto the couch. 

What the fuck did that mean ‘it’s good to have friends’? Was she cheating on him? Did she know about Hermione? 

He wanted to wring something to get out his frustration. He tore into the letter, not sure of what else to do with his hands at the moment.

 

_Harry,_

_I’m ready. Meet me tonight._

_If you reply, I’ll let you know where._

 

Harry’s eyes stayed fixed on those two words, flipping them back and forth about possible meanings and misinterpretations. 

‘I’m ready.’ 

She was ready to leave him. He had told her he would leave Ginny when she was ready to leave Ron and here it was. 

But they hadn’t spoken in over a week and there was still so much to be settled. He had been avoiding her not wanting to deal with his own conflicting feelings and guilt, but now the time had finally come and he couldn’t not meet her. 

She was ready, and true to his word, that meant he had to be, too. He quickly called to the owl and gave it some treats, attaching his reply.

~~~*~~~

They met a hotel in the most Muggle part of London. Hermione arrived first, leaving a message for Harry at the front desk. When he arrived he asked if there was a message addressed to him. The clerk handed him an envelope with the room number and key.

He took a deep breath before keying into the room. Hermione was sitting on the bed playing with her skirt when he came in. She jumped up immediately. 

They stared at each other for a long time.

“Hi,” she said hesitantly, looking at him cautiously.

“Hi,” he said, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Oh, Harry,” she said rushing at him throwing her arms around his neck

He held her tightly. “I missed you, Hermione.”

“I missed you, too.”

“Do you really mean it?”

“Yes, Harry, yes.”

“Well then, I’m ready, too.”

They held each other for a long time, when Harry finally pulled back.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” he said.

“No, Harry, it’s my fault. I should have never said anything so cruel. I know deep down that you would never think about really doing something like that.”

“But if it had crossed your mind, then you shouldn’t have to be sorry for saying it. I want you to be able to tell me everything, even if it makes me uncomfortable. It’s not like I haven’t thought about what it may mean either.”

“You have?”

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know why I get off on doing that to you. At first I felt bad about it,” he said looking a little distressed.

“You shouldn’t, I like it,” she said, reaching out to rub his arm.

“I know, but it is really sort of demented,” he said.

“All the more reason why it’s crystal clear you’re the only one for me,” she said playfully. 

Her expression quickly became more sober though. “Harry, you know that this has nothing to do with sex, right? That I love you and I can’t see myself married to someone else anymore. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I know that now, for sure.”

“I feel the same way Hermione. I guess maybe I was trying to push you too hard to get you to say that.”

“I’m glad you did… just don’t ever do it again,” she said smacking his arm lightly.

“Seriously, I am really sorry about what I pulled at your office,” he said, putting his hand to his forehead.

“I know you are, but I still can’t believe you did that.”

Harry shrugged. “You’ll have to keep me in check. I like a little adventure.”

“I’ll say. So, are we okay?” she asked.

“More than okay,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her softly.

When the kiss broke, he held her against his chest for a while. 

She looked up at him and smiled. “I love the way we connect sexually, Harry, I do. It’s just feels so real sometimes, but I know I’m safe with you. I guess I just didn’t know how to say that, it didn’t help that I was kind of mad at you as well.”

He looked down at her as he considered what she was saying. “Maybe we shouldn’t do anymore of that sort of thing for a while.”

Hermione drew back. “Well, I didn’t say that!”

Harry snickered. 

“Well, I have another fantasy I’d like play out, you might find this one a bit easier,” he said.

“Oh? What is it?” 

“How about you be Hermione Granger, newly single divorcee, and I’ll be Harry Potter, newly single divorcee,” he said taking her hands into his.

“I think I like the sound of this one,” she said smirking. 

“And instead of me taking you by force, I want to do something really bizarre,” he said looking at her soberly.

Hermione raised her eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Well, how would you respond if I asked if you would let me make love to you?”

Hermione smiled brightly. “I think I would have to say, ‘Harry, I’d thought you’d never ask.’”

Harry began kissing her slowly, caressing her cheek and then slipping his hand under her hair and behind her neck, holding her head gently as he began to lower her onto her back. His mouth moved from her lips to her neck, and Hermione arched her body up to meet his as he began to fumble with her top buttons. 

He raised himself up and began to unbutton each one carefully, kissing his way down as he did until the last one was done and his mouth was resting against her belly. She ran her hands through his hair, and urged him to come back up so that she could taste his lips again. 

His mouth settled onto hers once more, taking his time to savor the taste of her, as his tongue began to explore every inch, wanting to memorize it so he could replay this moment in his head over again. He reached up and held her breast in his hand, and let her guide his hand underneath. She raised herself up and undid her bra, casting it off to the floor. She watched his face as she did. Harry kept his eyes on her as he reached up to caress her right breast gently before lowering his mouth to suck on her nipple. 

Hermione moaned and gripped his hair before letting her head fall on top of his as he sucked. His other hand traced the outline of her hips, moving down slowly until it found the waist of her skirt. Hermione moved her hands behind her to undo the button of her skirt, but couldn’t help but giggle when Harry slapped her hand away and stopped sucking on her breast to move down and stick his head under her skirt. She sighed as he began kissing her along her inner thigh. When he reached her knickers, he reached up to pull them down, and she helped him, raising her hips up so that he could pull them off of her. 

He got them as far as her calves before she kicked them off impatiently, flinging them halfway across the room. He chuckled at her impatience before diving back down to lick her newly exposed core. He pushed her thighs apart, and began to taste her as if she were his favorite meal, licking, lapping, and sucking as he buried his face into her wet heat as far as he could. 

She gripped his head, squirming and moaning under his tongue’s attention, and just before she was about to come, he pulled back. 

“Don’t stop,” she said in desperation, reaching out for him to resume.

“I want us to come together, okay?” he asked, as he rose and began disrobing. 

She shook her head and undid her skirt and pulled it down over her hips as she watched him peel away his clothes in anticipation. She was now fully nude, laid out before him like a beautiful goddess and he knew that he was making the right decision. He could think of no one more beautiful and perfect for him than she. And no wedding band or divorce would change the fact that she was his, and his alone. 

He fell into her, sliding between her legs, kissing her slowly once more as he held her hip with one hand and her face with the other. She reached up and folded her arms around him, holding him close to her, spreading herself wider for him to slip into her. 

He took his time, being as tender as possible, as if to prove to her that he could. She smiled appreciatively as he raised himself up slightly to position himself to enter her. He waited, looking into her eyes, waiting for her to urge him forward.

“Please, Harry, I want you so much,” she whispered, gripping his shoulders, trying to pull him down.

“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he said as he moved forward, slowly slipping into her, feeling her wet heat envelop him inch by inch until he was completely encased inside of her. 

He waited for a few moments, reveling in the feeling of her, elated that he would now get to feel this way with her every day for the rest of his life. He felt like the luckiest wizard alive as he lowered his head and kissed her shoulder.

“Forever?” he whispered against her skin. 

“Forever,” Hermione whispered back, wrapping her legs firmly around him.

He began to move, as she urged him on with her own motion, pushing her hips up, and grinding against him. Harry tried his best not to rush it, but it became harder as the need to move inside of her became more urgent. They began to rock against each other, and with every thrust forward, he could feel himself losing control. 

When she dug her nails into his shoulders and cried out his name, he decided to let go and took her the way his body demanded him to, driving into her twice more with restrained force until he felt his body shaking with his approaching orgasm. He gripped one of her thighs, bracing himself as he spilled himself into her, gasping her name against her skin before settling in exhaustion on top of her. 

They lay like that for several moments, when Harry finally looked up to see her smiling at him.

“I think we should tell them at the next couples’ night,” she said. 

“Hermione, that’s in three days,” Harry said, looking at her doubtfully.

“The sooner the better.”

“Ginny has her first Quidditch match the next day,” he said with concern.

“Do you want to wait?” she asked looking down at him with a sad face.

Harry sighed, and rubbed his sweaty forehead against her skin. “No, it won’t be any easier, no matter when we do it.”

“Exactly,” Hermione replied. 

“Okay then, Friday night,” he said raising his head to kiss her passionately once more.

~~~*~~~

On Friday, at dinner, Ginny and Harry barely looked at each other. Ginny kept her eyes on Hermione, making small talk about the weather, Quidditch, and Hermione’s work.

It was obvious that she would rather be someplace else, and when Harry asked her to pass the butter she continued to talk to Hermione as if she hadn’t heard him. Ron gave Harry a pitiful glance and then tried to break up the conversation to get Hermione’s attention. Hermione did her best to try to be pleasant and act as if she weren’t about to announce she had betrayed both her husband and a long-time friend but she steadily growing nervous as the night went on. 

Finally, Harry cleared his throat, and they all looked over at him, waiting. He opened his mouth and glanced at Hermione who seemed to have gone quite stiff. 

“So, how about those Cannons?” he said.

They all looked at him with mixed expressions, before Ron started in about the new Cannons Keeper. 

The conversation through the rest of dinner was strained and awkward as both couples were trying their best to put on a façade of normality for the other. 

By the end of dinner, they were all very ready for the night to end, when Hermione excused herself to go to the loo. Harry said that he would pick up the check and left the table to get the waitress. 

When Hermione came out of the restroom, Harry was there, waiting for her. “What are you doing, you’re not supposed to be here, what if someone comes in?”

“The door is locked.”

Hermione exhaled. “I thought you said we’d do it tonight!”

Harry shook his head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.” 

“Maybe it wasn’t,” she agreed reluctantly.

“I don’t think anyone wants this evening to go on, and we can’t very well do it in public.”

“Right,” Hermione said, biting her lip.

“Besides, Ginny’s first match is tomorrow, and I don’t want to ruin it for her,” he said looking down at the floor with a guilty expression.

“And I suppose it would be rather awkward doing it in front of both of them at the same time,” Hermione offered.

“Right, we should do this privately with them, it’d be better for everyone,” he said.

“But I don’t want to drag this out, Harry,” she said firmly.

“I don’t either,” he agreed.

“By next Friday, then?” she asked with a hopeful expression.

“Okay, by Friday.”

“Wait, if we do it on different days, then one of them will just tell the other,” she said.

“Right, so how about we both do it on the same day,” he said.

“Thursday?” she said. “Then maybe we’ll have next weekend to ourselves.”

Harry smiled. “Okay, Thursday.”

~~~*~~~

That evening Harry had another owl waiting for him when he got home. Ginny didn’t even glance at it as she headed upstairs to go to bed. He held it tightly in his hand as he ascended the stairs and went into this study, locking the door. He opened it up and read it, his eyes going wide in surprise.

 

_Harry,_

_I hear that there’s still one rogue Death Eater on the loose. It’s rumored he may be obsessed with me and wants me to pay for my role in the war. I’m afraid he may have been scouting the house, and that he might know Ron’s schedule. Although Ron comes home a little earlier now, I’m still vulnerable to attack between 7pm and 1am. If you don’t mind, I’d feel much safer if you’d drop by sometime early next week to check in on me._

_Thanks in advance,_

_Hermione_

 

Harry shook his head at Hermione’s latest idea for role-play. This was the most depraved suggestion by far. He tried to think of all the reasons he shouldn’t take her up on it. 

Besides the sheer twisted nature of the role she wanted him to assume, considering all they had been through with Death Eaters, the most compelling reason not to indulge her this time was that they had their whole lives ahead of them to play these types of games. 

Still, he couldn’t help the sly smirk that tugged at his lips as he thought about how he would go about making this fantasy happen. As an Auror, he had access to several old confiscated Death Eater masks and it would be no problem gaining access to her home to hide so that he could catch her by surprise.

He pushed the nagging voice telling him to hold off until after they broke the news to Ron and Ginny. He had always enjoyed the thrill of a little danger and besides, why should he have to wait? Hermione was his now, and soon this would all be over with anyway. 

One more time couldn’t hurt.


	8. The Ultimate Violation

Ginny hadn’t been home for most of the weekend. Harry went to her first match on Saturday and cheered for her, only to have her give him an obligatory hug once she got off the pitch. Once she said her ‘thank yous’ and received hugs from her family, she quickly turned around and went off with her teammates, not bothering to give Harry a second glance.

When she didn’t come home that night, Harry had assumed that she had got caught up in the revelry of the team’s first victory and was staying with a teammate. But when she failed to return home the night after that, he became concerned and owled her parents and Ron to see if they had heard from her.

They had all replied that they hadn’t seen her and were quite concerned that Harry hadn’t either. 

On Monday night, he found himself sitting in his living room considering whether to file a Missing Person’s report when she came out of the Floo.

“Where the hell have you been?” he asked, clearly upset.

“Oh, you’re home, that’s a surprise,” she said genuinely.

“What do you mean; I’m always home,” he said in irritation.

“Not at this hour,” she said with one eyebrow raised.

“How would you know? You haven’t been home for the past two nights,” he mumbled. 

“Sorry about that. The victory party got out of hand, and I… well, I lost track of time,” she said nonchalantly, making her way toward the table to check her mail.

“Lost track of time? A three-day party, Ginny?” he pressed.

Ginny sighed and turned to look at him. “Look, I told you things would be different once I joined the team.” 

“If this is payback for what happened two weeks ago, I think you’ve made your point.”

“Not everything is about you, Harry,” she said with an amused voice. “Maybe you were right; everything I did revolved around making this house perfect for us. But what’s the point if I’m the only one who cares?” 

“Talk about going from one extreme to the other,” Harry said, watching her.

“Excuse me for getting a life!” she said with an edge in her voice as she began making her way to the stairs. “Now, if I have your permission, I’d like to take a shower,” she said sarcastically.

Harry shrugged. “Fine,” he said wearily, plopping down on the couch.

Ginny seemed to be annoyed at his indifference and growled an expletive before slamming the bedroom door closed.

~~~~~*~~~~

When Ron came in for work on Monday, he was tense from an emotional roller coaster weekend that left him perplexed. Hermione had been acting strangely, going from outright avoiding him to coddling him and trying to do things for him as if apologizing for avoiding him.

She wouldn’t look him in the eye for any extended amount of time, and made a point to find something to do in order not to be around him for too long. It was so confusing and unlike her that he almost wished she would go back to being depressed and withdrawn.

As he strode out of the Auror changing station and into the assignment room, he picked up his patrol detail for the week. It was local; he liked that. He could stay inside the Ministry for an extended amount of time, and the area around the Ministry was usually trouble free. The last thing he wanted was more stress.

He signed off and was about to head out when the Auror Chief came in looking annoyed.

“If the Ministry wants someone to fix their security wards, then they should hire Wardsmiths just like everyone else! My Aurors aren’t repairmen!” he said, balling up a note in his hand. 

“Turner,” he barked, looking up at a young rookie talking among a group of other rookies sitting in the corner.

“Yeah, Chief?” 

“I need for you go to the fourth floor for me, check on a broken surveillance ward.”

Ron turned around and gave the conversation his full attention. 

“That’s gonna take forever,” Turner groaned.

“What are you complaining about? You’re lucky I don’t send you out to Knockturn to do some real work. Besides, it shouldn’t take long; it’s only one office, the Deputy Director of Magical Creatures.”

“Excuse me, sir,” Ron interrupted.

“Yeah, Weasley?” the chief asked, looking annoyed that someone else was about to bother him for something.

“That’s my wife’s office,” Ron said.

The Chief grunted. “Hmm, that’s right; she just got that promotion, eh?”

“Yeah,” Ron said, nodding.

“Well, maybe Ron should go check it out then,” Turner said, sounding far too excited to be handing off the assignment. 

“Sure, no problem,” Ron said, turning to leave. 

“Hey,” the Chief called to him. “No fooling around up there; you check it out and get right back to your patrol,” he said firmly. 

Ron nodded his head and tried not to look too anxious or impatient as he began to walk toward the lift. 

He could feel his pulse in his skin as his thoughts began to swirl.

Why would the surveillance wards be broken in Hermione’s office? He could think of a few implausible reasons but only two rational ones kept sticking out in his head. 

It was pretty difficult to break surveillance wards. It either took pretty powerful magic, or a deliberate shut down ordered by the office’s occupant, which meant that either Hermione had cut off her own wards, or someone had broken in and disabled them. 

Either option was unsettling.

Once he arrived on the fourth floor, he went to the reception desk and showed the witch stationed there his Auror I.D. as he informed her of his business. She pulled out a heavy book with a steel lock on it, and did a series of taps that appeared to have a specific cadence. The lock snapped open and she combed through the book until she found Hermione’s name and told him the spell password to unlock her office door. 

He thanked her before walking over to Hermione’s office. Pointing his wand at the lock, he said the spell he was given, which promptly disabled the lock. Once inside, he looked around, searching it as thoroughly as possible without disturbing anything before standing in the area where the wards should have been the strongest. 

He didn’t see any evidence of anything valuable missing and her office was neat and orderly just the way she always kept everything. That only frustrated him more, and he reluctantly withdrew his wand and said the incantation for rebuilding the wards. It took almost twenty minutes to rebuild. He cast a scanning spell to test its strength afterward and then left. 

But, instead of returning to his patrol, he went down to the lower level where the security post was located to talk to the guard stationed there.

“Hi, Gerald,” he said, giving the guard as friendly smile as he could muster at the moment.

“Ron, how’s it going?”

“All right, listen, I’m checking on a security break on the fourth floor,” he said.

“Oh yeah, right, the Chief already sent someone to look into it.”

“Yeah, that would be me,” Ron said.

“Ah, so you know… it’s your wife’s office,” Gerald said, standing up straight, studying Ron’s reaction.

“Right, who made the alert?” Ron said quickly.

“I did. I just noticed that we can’t see anything in her office,” Gerald explained.

“You just noticed? So, you don’t know how long it’s been like that?”

“Nah, but I can check the logs to see when our last images came through,” Gerald said, raising his wand.

Ron immediately put his hand on Gerald’s wand to stop him. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to do that myself,” he said not so casually.

Gerald looked at Ron strangely, but seemed to sense that this was a personal matter and quickly nodded his head.

“Sure… sure thing. The spell password is ‘JobSucks’; just say it twice and do a double counter clockwise flick. I’m just gonna go to the Snack shop—will you wait here until I get back?”

“Sure.”

Once Gerald started walking away, Ron muttered the password and did the required flick motion, which prompted several images of all the offices and common areas of the ministry to appear. They were lined up in front of him like mini moving photos, all arranged according to floor and location. He used his wand to trace up to the pictures depicting the fourth floor and found Hermione’s office. 

He tapped on the image and it came forward, enlarging as it did and appearing much like the screen of a Muggle television his dad had once brought home. He slid his wand over it and it remained blank until finally an image appeared. 

It was Harry, he was sitting in Hermione’s chair behind her desk, his feet were propped on the desk, and his hands were behind his back as if it were _his_ office instead of Hermione’s. Ron swallowed and whispered, “Harry?”

He watched as Hermione said something to him with a stern expression and Harry put his feet down and sat up folding his hands on the desk looking up at her with a grave expression. She threw her hands up and then pointed behind her, to where the wards would be. 

Ron’s brow furrowed as he watched a sly smile appear on Harry’s face, and then the image went fuzzy before going completely blank.

He stared at the blank screen for a fair amount of time, frowning. He knew Harry very well, better than anyone else. Ever since their fifth year, Ron had made it a point to be familiar with every expression Harry had and what each of them meant, so that he could anticipate his wild mood swings and impulsive behavior.

He’d only seen Harry smile like that a few times since he’d known him, but it was enough to know that whatever Harry had been thinking or planning to do before the screen had went blank couldn’t have been good.

~~~~~*~~~~

Ron went back downstairs at the insistence of the nagging voice in his head that told him to check something out. As he approached his boss’s office, he ran through a credible list of reasons why he was about to make the request he was about to make.

The door was open, but he knocked anyway. 

“Yeah, Wealsey, come in,” the Chief said.

“Chief, I was wondering if I could check the patrol logs for the past few months?”

“Now why would you want to do that, Weasley?”

“Just want to see if maybe there are some areas I’m being over-assigned to,” Ron said.

“Are you saying you’re bored with your patrol assignment, because I can certainly fix that,” the Chief said threateningly. 

“No, sir, that’s not what I’m saying at all; I enjoy all of my patrols. I just want to make sure I’m gaining enough experience with each of the areas we’re covering.”

The Chief nodded his head slowly. “All right Weasley, here ya go,” he said as he handed over a thick binder. 

“You know, you keep showing initiative like this, and you’ll find yourself promoted to Captain soon,” he said, giving Ron an approving smile.

Ron smiled back. “Thank you, sir.” 

“Let me know if you’d like me to reassign you to a particular area; we really need more good patrol wizards like you, especially in the north side of town.”

“Thanks, sir, will do,” he said before turning to take the book back to a secluded spot near the back of the Auror station where he could look it over undisturbed.

He opened the huge book and flipped to the ‘P’ section to find Harry’s patrol schedule. It was no surprise that Harry always worked on local patrol; the Auror department liked to keep its most visible and celebrated Auror close to the Ministry for good public relations. It also made those within the Ministry feel safer. 

Ron searched for any irregularities or abrupt changes in Harry’s assignment schedule. 

There was only one. 

It was a special reassignment to Diagon Alley, it had been only for one day, and he didn’t have anyone accompany him. Apparently, he had traded with an Auror who had regular patrol in that part of town.

Why would he do that? 

Ron thought of the discarded Observation Wards in Hermione’s office, and the day Harry altered his routine assignment. One of those things would have been highly unusual, but together they were damn right fishy.

Ron looked at the date and then thought about Hermione’s lunch meeting with Miss Stevenson and how it had been cut short. He wasn’t sure if it was the same day, but he knew it was around the same period. He kept staring at the request for the switch and the date. 

And then it hit him all at once like an anvil thudding to the pit of his stomach. 

The way Hermione’s eyes had brightened in the weeks after he had asked Harry to go and visit her; the way she exuded a sexy allure he hadn’t seen from her since they were first married; the way she now cringed when he tried to touch her; how she and Harry seemed to always go missing at the same time during couples’ night; how he had just missed Harry and had been reminded of the smell of sex when he visited her office; how apologetic and tense Harry had been at the pub; the way she had trouble looking him in the eye the whole weekend and if she did, she seemed apologetic for no reason at all.

He narrowed his eyes, slammed the logbook closed, and tried to control his breathing as he felt himself beginning to shake with rage. 

He could go and confront them both, but he only had a hunch. It was a very big one, but everything he had was circumstantial and could be explained away. He would end up looking foolish if he were wrong.

Hunch or not though, Ron decided that it was time to change the wards in his house. 

As soon as he got home, he would take Harry’s name out of the security clearance, and prevent him from having access to his home through Apparation. The only way Harry would be able to come inside would be if were invited in by either Ron or Hermione, or broke in, and he doubted he would do that. That would mean that if Hermione invited him inside while he wasn’t there, he would know about it. 

But he didn’t want her to know that he suspected. 

A silent alarm would have to be placed in the ward configuration to make his wand vibrate, alerting him specifically to Harry’s presence. Since he had no intentions of telling either one of them about it, if it turned out he was wrong, no one would get hurt. 

But if he was right, Merlin help them both.

~~~~~*~~~~

The next day, Harry found himself pacing and looking up every few minutes through the glass to see if anyone was coming. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to go into the confiscation vault and steal a Death Eater mask. Well, not really steal; he had every intention of returning it later.

He surveyed the area for security wards and surprisingly found none. He thought it was because there were enough wards surrounding the Auror station that they figured that the vault wouldn’t need any extra guarding. It was a vault, after all. 

With shaky hands, he performed the combination and slid inside. There were an assortment of confiscated items, ranging from illegal wizarding potions and powders; rare and black market ingredients made from endangered and dangerous species; illegal Muggle drugs and weapons, and benign but banned joke gadgets from the Weasley joke shop. 

He went over to the back of the vault that had been sectioned off and labeled ‘Dark Magic’ and saw a range of items including artifacts, heinous Wizarding weapons and torture devices and then finally a pile of Death Eater masks. Briefly, his vision was filled with scenes from his years at Hogwarts when the sight of those masks would make his skin prickle. It was something like seeing a dead monster; the threat of it was gone and the fear seemed to have all but vanished, but wasn’t forgotten.

He grabbed it quickly and hid it in his robes as he walked out of the vault briskly, locking it back up behind him. He went back to his patrol and worked the rest of the day as if he weren’t hiding a Death Eater mask and planning in his mind the kinkiest thing he’d ever do.

Once he got off work and saw Ron walking up to the other side of the station’s entrance (though Ron didn’t see him), Harry went out into a side alley to Apparate into the Weasely’s living room.

He discovered, much to his irritation, that no matter how hard he thought about the Weasley living room, he could not Apparate inside their home. He figured that Ron had probably put up new security wards because of his suspicions that Hermione was cheating. 

He finally resorted to Apparating to their street, and he came through their front door after fiddling with the lock for a few moments. 

He would have to fix it before Ron came home, but it was a relatively simple lock, it appeared that Ron was over confident about his security wards. He would have to talk to him about that later, perhaps, well, if Ron ever wanted to speak to him again after tomorrow night. 

He snuck in the darkness, put the Death Eater mask on as he hid in the coat closet, and waited for Hermione to come down the stairs.

~~~~~*~~~~

When Hermione came home on Wednesday she looked around her home in hopes that perhaps Harry had snuck in, but she found herself alone and disappointed. She waited anxiously for another two hours for Harry to arrive. She had thought he would have come over either on Monday or Tuesday, but she was willingly to wait because she was very excited about this particular role-play.

It was so taboo, which made it even more of a turn on for her. The threat of Death Eaters seemed long behind them, and while whatever crimes they committed would not soon be forgotten, their power and ability to conjure real fear had passed. Now, they were as much a part of history as any other heinous figure, and using them in role-play would affirm that, at least for her.

She was just about to retire for the evening when she heard the sound of door creaking open and then being closed softly. She grabbed her wand and went to the top of the stairs but didn’t see anyone.

She was about to call Harry’s name, but then thought of how suspicious Ron had seemed and his new unusual knack for coming home early and decided that it was safer to call his name and have Harry correct her than the visa versa.

“Ron!”

There was no answer. It was pitch black and so she cut on the lights, and proceeded down the stairs quietly, dipping her head to peer below.

“Ron, is that you?”

She was greeted by dead silence.

Hermione was beginning to become unnerved by the eeriness of her own home. In their other role-plays, Harry had always revealed himself before hand and they had talked first. 

She was completely shocked when in the next moment, her wand flew out of her hand and she felt herself being knocked back onto the floor. She looked up to see a tall, hooded figure with a Death Eater mask hovering over her. 

She breathed a sigh of relief.

“Harry! Warn me before you use wandless magic, you scared the shit outta—”

Bright spots appeared before her eyes as a sharp slap landed on her right cheek, turning her head against the floor. She didn’t have time to recover from it because the intruder was on her the next second.

She felt her body being raised in mid-air before him, but he wasn’t touching her; just standing there with that awful mask, staring at her.

She felt herself being slammed against the wall, and when he approached she instinctually reached out to fight him, but to no avail. He grabbed her wrists and raised her arms above her head as he muttered some sort of spell that sounded dangerous and Dark. She watched him with wide eyes, actually feeling fear and a tinge of regret for what she had asked for as she felt her wrists bind together. 

His hand closed around her throat, and his breath, hot and ragged through the mask, reached her face. The mask made Harry’s voice sound sinister and foreign, drastically distorting his heavy breathing and low chuckles.

He did a full body bind and threw her over his shoulder. There was another whisper of a spell and suddenly everything that had been on the kitchen table went crashing to the floor.

He threw her down on the table, laying her across it before whispering something else that sounded like a curse she remembered from D.A.D.A. 

Hermione felt her body being pulled, as her arms and legs were stretched out to each side to the edges of the table. He muttered something else and then an awful ripping noise pervaded the air as her clothing tore down the middle as if being ripped open by unseen hands until she was fully exposed to him.

She recognized the next spell as Harry said _‘Incarcerous’_ clearly, prompting long ropes to come out from under the table and wrap around her wrists and ankles. Hermione let out a gasp as they stretched her even further apart. She began to struggle, trying to fight the ropes as Harry climbed on top of her, straddled her chest and looked down at her. She spit up at his face.

“Hold still, you filthy little Mudblood!” he snarled.

Hermione paused, as did Harry. She knew he had regretted that word as soon as it had left his mouth and was waiting to see if he had crossed the line. She could see that he was holding his breath, waiting for her to say something to let him know if he could continue or not, and found herself smirking up at him.

“Oh yeah? You don’t scare me, you disgusting Voldy arselicker!” she said trying not to laugh. 

“Voldy Arselicker?” Harry snickered before quickly growing serious again. “You’ll be licking my arse the way you licked Potter’s before tonight is done, you dirty cunt!”

Harry climbed over top of her and pushed his cock against her lips, gripping her hair tightly as he shoved the head between her lips.

Hermione let out a pained gasp at the feeling of her hair being pulled as Harry forced the air out of her mouth. 

“Choke on it, bitch,” he growled as he began to pump himself in and out of her, using her head to move her mouth over him as he did.

Hermione struggled for air for several moments as the head of his cock hit the back of her throat over and over. Finally she began to adjust to the roughness of his treatment and started to breathe through her nose.

“That’s it, you cocksucker,” he panted as he began to lose control. 

Hermione could feel him tensing and wondered if he would spend himself in her mouth, when he withdrew abruptly, letting go of her head and smacking his cock across her face.

“Can’t go wasting my load that quick; I’ve waited too long for this so I’m gonna take my time with you,” he breathed heavily.

He looked over at the kitchen counter where there were a set of steak knives stacked in a knife rack and levitated one in mid-air bringing it over to him. He played with the knife, twirling it around. 

Hermione swallowed, not liking the look of it gleaming in the kitchen light and reflecting off of the metallic mask. She searched the mask for signs of Harry, and saw none. The mask cast a darkened shadow over his eyes so that she couldn’t even see the green in them. Suddenly she didn’t want to play anymore.

“Harry, I… please, I don’t want to play, not like this, put it down,” she pleaded earnestly. 

Harry chuckled. “Who’s playing? It’s time for payback,” he said menacingly.

“Harry, I’m serious! Stop it,” she said weakly, her voice betraying her arousal.

Harry began to trace the knife over her skin, holding the blade flat against her so as not to cut her, but tilting it ever so slightly as if to remind her that he could. 

Hermione felt goose bumps rising from her flesh and she began to whimper, “Please, don’t.”

Harry leaned over closed, putting his lips to her ear. “I wanna hear you beg.”

“Please,” she continued, beginning to writhe and feeling herself growing wetter despite her fear.

“That’s it cunt, keep begging, makes me hard,” he said, straightening up.

He began to slide the knife towards her mound, holding it close. Hermione made a fearful whining sound when he turned it around and began to trace her folds with the handle. 

“Oh, Gods!” she cried.

Harry hummed, sounding pleased as he slipped the handle inside of her slowly.

“Oh, my… Oh!!!”

“Yeah… you’re mine now, bitch,” he said, beginning to move the handle in and out carefully. 

“Aahhh!” Hermione gasped and then let out a low moan that she didn’t even recognize as her own.

Perhaps it was because he was being so tender in his ministrations, perhaps it was because he was using such a dangerous object, or perhaps it was because it was all so wrong, but Hermione was extremely aroused and found herself pushing herself up against the handle of the blade as much as her restraints would allow. 

“You dirty Muggle whore… just can’t help yourself, can you?” he said, pulling the knife handle out of her and casting it to the floor. 

He reached under his robe, and pulled his trousers and pants off before climbing on top of the table and positioned himself between her legs.

“You thought you could escape justice? Enjoy this last bit of pleasure; it’ll be the last thing you feel!” he said, grabbing her throat and thrusting inside of her. 

Hermione was very wet and despite what he was saying, or perhaps because of it, she found herself bucking up against him. 

“Oooooh! You bastard!” she moaned.

“Bastard am I? Didn’t your Muggle parents teach you that if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all? _Silencio!_ ”

~~~~~*~~~~

Ron was talking to the guard at the security station about random news and gossip when he felt his wand vibrate hard in his pocket. He stopped in mid-sentence and excused himself.

The silent alarm had been tripped; Harry was in his home. 

He took a deep breath and made a quick stop for the loo. He locked himself inside of the stall and ran his hands through his hair, thinking. 

He didn’t know whether he should rush to the house or just play it cool and come home at his usual time and ask Hermione about her day to see if she left out the fact that Harry had been by. 

He would look pretty foolish coming to the house if they were just having tea and talking. How would he explain himself? Ron didn’t want to wind up looking paranoid like he did when he had invited Harry to the pub for a drink.

He left the loo, went to the Snack shop, and then to the Visitor’s Center, and finally back to the Auror’s station. Mentally, he was weighing the advantages and disadvantages of going home immediately. 

Finally, when he could not take it anymore, Ron stood up and walked out of the Auror station as if he were going to go on patrol, and when he made it outside, he Apparated into his living room.

As soon as he arrived he heard grunting and panting coming from the kitchen. He felt his blood began to boil and withdrew his wand as he came around the couch to making his way towards the noise.

He opened the door slowly and quietly. 

What lay in front of him was nothing like he had been expecting. 

There in his kitchen was a dark-robed figure, with his robe up around his arse, buried between Hermione’s legs which, like her arms, were spread out and bound to the legs of the table. The man had his hands around her throat and was leaning over her, grunting as he pounded into her. 

Ron let out a loud gasp, which made the perpetrator look up. He felt his knees go weak and a familiar queasy feeling stirred in his belly as his eyes met the masked face of the Death Eater raping his wife. It felt like seeing a ghost, only much worse. 

Finally, he found his voice. “’Mione!! Oh Gods… Stupefy!” he screamed, sending out a stunning spell towards the figure, who swatted the spell away with his hand like it was an annoying fly. 

Ron could feel panic beginning to take root. He hadn’t seen anyone deflect magic like that in a long long time. 

“Back up, I need back up,” he said to himself as he tried to send a Patronus, but nothing close to his happiest memory was accessible right now. 

So, instead he flicked his wand twice and muttered the spell that would open up a speaking portal to his team. 

“Back up, I… I need back up, there’s a Death Eater….” he said clearly, keeping his eyes on the robed figure who was pulling out of Hermione and turning around.

A clear voice came out on the end of his wand. “Death Eater? Weasley, Come on… the war is over.” 

“Look arsehole, there’s a Death Eater in my home assaulting my wife, now get me some fucking back up!”

“Are you sure? Weasley… Weasley?”

But the charm had already ended and the connection was closed. 

“Motherfucker!” he shouted, running towards Harry at full speed with his wand out in front of him.

Ron went flying back, his head hitting the wall. He looked up at the ‘Death Eater’ in dazed shock; only a few wizards in the world could do wandless magic, and to his knowledge none of them were Death Eaters. He quickly realized he was dealing with a more serious threat than he had originally thought.

~~~~~*~~~~

Harry had been caught off guard by Ron’s appearance. He had no idea how long his friend had been standing there, trying to stun him. When he heard the stunning spell cast, he had put up his hand defensively and had been surprised to see that he was able to actually cast it aside with little effort.

But then the next minute he felt his heart leap in his throat when he heard Ron called for back-up. He knew he had to act fast to diffuse the situation before it got out of hand and other Aurors showed up. 

He turned around to unbind Hermione, but heard Ron running towards him. He was cursing, and pointing his wand, and Harry felt something unleash in his body sending Ron flying back into the wall. Not since his days at the Durselys' had his magic acted on its own accord the way it did when it rose up against Ron. It frightened him and he quickly rushed towards Ron in concern, forgetting his mask. When Ron recovered he lifted his wand and yelled, _‘Crucio!_ ’

Harry dropped to the floor screaming as he convulsed, rolling around on the floor. 

Hermione was silently screaming as Harry writhed in excruciating pain. Ron turned his head to look back at Hermione, pointing his wand.

“ _Finite Incantatem!_ ”

“Ron!” she cried.

“Don’t worry ’Mione, you’re safe now,” he said shakily, looking at Hermione in deep concern as he bent over to try to untie her.

“Ron! Stop it!! Please!” she yelled, looking over at Harry rolling around on the floor.

“Stop what? He’s Death Eater! He was raping you for God’s sake!”

“Ron… no. Oh, Gods,” she said, shaking her head.

“What is it?”

A blood-curdling screamed ripped out louder than the rest, as Harry began to claw at himself, causing Hermione cry out.

“Ron, it’s Harry!”

“What?” Ron asked, looking at her like she was mental.

“That’s Harry!” she said, motioning her head towards Harry emphatically.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, Ron that’s no Death Eater, that’s Harry!!”

Ron stared at the figure screaming and rolling around on the floor and pointed his wand to end the curse. 

He walked over slowly until he was standing over the heap on the floor. Harry was panting and moaning in pain, trying to recover. 

“Harry?” he whispered.

After a few moments, Harry struggled to sit up as he removed the mask. Once it was off, he slowly brought his eyes up to gaze at Ron with a guilty and pained expression.

“Ron… I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you, I—”

Harry’s head was turned to the other side as Ron’s fist collided with his jaw.

“I’m gonna kill you, you sonofabitch!!” Ron barked as he threw another punch. 

Harry only barely reached up to defend himself, allowing another blow to land on the other side of his face.

“What kind of freaky fucked-up-shit were you doing to her? Huh???” Ron screamed, punching him again and again.

“Ron…”

“You motherfucker! Say something!”

“Ron… I’m…” 

“You’re what? Sorry?” he asked, this time kicking Harry in the shins causing Harry to yelp.

“Say you’re sorry now, you sonofabitch!”

“Ron, I am, I’m sorry!”

Another punch hit him around the ears and Harry realized that he had stopped fighting Ron. Instead he curled up into a fetal position, covering his head. He was vaguely aware that blood was trickling down from a head wound into his eye and that his lips were swollen, but none of that seemed to matter as his head kept colliding against the floor with every punch Ron landed. 

He heard Hermione screaming at the top of her lungs, and looked up through a red haze to see her still tied to the table, struggling and crying. He tried to raise himself up once more until he felt the air leave him as Ron’s foot collided with his stomach, causing him to remove his hands from his head to cover his middle. When he did, a balled fist landed squarely into his nose, and he felt it crack as new blood joined the blood running from his head.

He didn’t even want to fight it, he willed himself to take it, he wanted to remember it, to stay conscious through it. He wanted Ron to hurt him the way he knew he had hurt Ron. And so he lay there and let the beating continue with Hermione screaming in the background for Ron to stop and for someone to help him. 

By the time three Aurors arrived and pulled Ron screaming, kicking, spitting, and swinging his fists off of him, Harry’s world had gone black and he laid unconscious on the floor.


	9. Aftershocks

“Please untie me!” Hermione screamed as she watched three Aurors pull Ron off Harry.

Once Ron was subdued and dragged into the living room, one of the Aurors came back quite red in the face. He avoided looking her in the eyes as he pointed his wand at her restraints and said a spell to disintegrate them. 

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Weasley, everything will be all right; you’re safe now,” he said to floor.

“Safe? I’m fine but Harry needs to taken to a hospital!”

“Uh, yes, yes Ma’am, straight away,” he said with a confused look on his face as he opened a speaking portal to St. Mungo’s. He informed them that he was bringing in two people.

“Two people? But, I don’t need to go to the hospital!” Hermione said in frustration. 

The Auror ignored her and walked over to Harry as he spoke under his breath to his wand before yelling out toward the living room. 

“Kyle, I’m going to need a hand here, we have to get Harry and Mrs. Weasley to St. Mungo’s!”

“All right, coming!” said a breathless young man, running out to the kitchen.

“You think Justin can handle Ron by himself?”

“Yeah, he’s calming down; we’ll contact the Chief when we get to the hospital. Let’s move,” he said, walking over to Hermione who was clutching fragments of her torn clothing together the best she could.

“I said I’m fine. I don’t any medical attention! But, wait one moment while I get changed; I’m coming with you to make sure Harry’s all right,” she said, turning around to go to the bathroom. 

Both Aurors exchanged a bewildered glance before turning their attention to Harry. 

“Damn, Ron messed him over pretty bad,” David said, looking down at Harry.

“Yeah, I’ll say, but from the looks of it, he had it coming,” Kyle said.

“Some hero; wait ‘til this gets out,” said David with a raised eyebrow.

Kyle shook his head. “Sometimes it’s the ones you least expect. Potter… Harry, can you hear me?” he asked loudly.

There was no response and they looked at each other with worried expressions. 

“Look, you go ahead, take him out on the street. You can’t Disapparate from here; the security wards are locked. Here, let me help you,” Kyle said, bending over to assist David in lifting Harry. 

“Up you go.” David grunted as he struggled to lift Harry in his arms. He started stumbling toward the door and his partner, Kyle, opened it for him.

“Wait for me!” Hermione said, running out in sweats and grabbing her purse to follow them out. 

Kyle looked apprehensive. “Ma’am, if you like, we can send someone to escort you.”

“No, I want to come with you, right now!”

“You don’t want to stay with your husband?” he asked.

Hermione shook her head. “I really don’t think that would be for the best, besides I want to make sure Harry is all right.”

“Yes, Ma’am; do you mind if I touch your arm for a sidelong?”

“What do you mean, isn’t that the only way to do a sidelong?”

“I just want to make sure it will be all right, me touching you and all. We can figure out another way if it makes you uncomfortable,” he said, studying her face.

“What on earth are you talking about? Let’s get to St. Mungo’s!” she said as she grabbed his arm.

~~~*~~~

When they arrived at the Emergency Room, Harry was immediately placed on a gurney and carted off. When Hermione tried to follow she was blocked by an older woman with black hair wearing Healer robes. The woman gave Hermione an once-over before looking to the Auror by her side.

“Is this the young woman you called in about?” the Healer asked.

Hermione’s brow furrowed. 

“Yes,” Kyle replied, glancing sideways at Hermione.

The Healer nodded. “Mrs. Weasley?”

“Yes?” Hermione asked, looking perplexed. 

“My name is Healer Emma Dixon, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” she said gently without extending her hand. 

“Where did they take Harry? I want to stay with him,” Hermione demanded.

Healer Dixon and Kyle both exchanged a look of understanding that irritated Hermione. 

“Is there a problem with that?” she asked, raising her voice.

Kyle stiffened and looked away as Healer Dixon shook her head. “Mrs. Weasley, you’ll be able to see him soon enough, but for now, I’m going to have to ask you to come with me, if that’s all right?” she said in a soft voice.

“For what?” Hermione asked, looking between the two of them.

“Please, Ma’am, the sooner you cooperate, the sooner you’ll be able to see Harry,” Kyle said.

Healer Dixon gave her a small smile, waiting for Hermione’s cooperation. Hermione reluctantly nodded and followed the woman around the corner. 

She was taken to the rear of the hospital where it was very quiet and private, and there was soothing music playing in the background. 

A young girl waiting by the door through which they entered gave Hermione a friendly but sympathetic smile. After they had entered the room, she closed the door behind them.

“Please, have a seat,” Healer Dixon said, motioning Hermione to a cushioned chair.

“Thank you,” Hermione said stiffly, looking around. 

“Can I get you anything?”

“No, thanks. The sooner I can see Harry, the better,” Hermione said hastily, fiddling with her hands.

Healer Dixon frowned in concern as she took a seat across from Hermione. “All right dear, now, I must tell you up front, I’m not a Mind Healer, and so the questions that I will be asking you will sound rather, for lack of a better word, investigative. It’s standard procedure. Now, do you mind if my assistant stays to witness this conversation?” 

Hermione glanced at the young girl standing near the door and gave a quick nod. “Fine.”

Healer Dixon took out a quill and conjured up a clipboard with a sheet attached. “How are you feeling?”

“Impatient,” Hermione snapped.

“No, I mean physically, any pain or—”

“What? No!”

“Very good,” Healer Dixon replied, seemingly unaffected by Hermione’s terse tone. 

“Now, are the clothes you’re currently wearing the same ones you were wearing during the attack?”

“Attack? I wasn’t attacked!” Hermione said indignantly.

The Healer Dixon blushed as she nodded quickly in agreement. “Yes, I apologize, how presumptive of me. What would you prefer we call the incident?”

Hermione huffed. “A misunderstanding! Look, you have the wrong idea here––”

“Yes, that’s fine. A misunderstanding… of course. When did this misunderstanding take place?” Healer Dixon continued.

“What?” 

“When did the misunderstanding in which you were you found with Mr. Potter take place?” Healer Dixon corrected herself.

“Just a little over an hour ago!” Hermione said in frustration.

“Were you wearing these clothes?” Healer Dixon asked, using her quill to point at Hermione’s sweats. 

“No! But I hardly understand what that has to do with this!”

“Where are the clothes you were wearing?” 

“At home!” Hermione said, throwing her hands up.

“So you changed before you came here?” she continued.

“Obviously!”

“Did you shower?” Healer Dixon asked.

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head in irritation.

“Very good,” Healer Dixon said, nodding as she moved down her list of questions.

“Why does it matter if I showered?” Hermione asked.

“It’ll help piece together things,” Healer Dixon said carefully.

“If you would just listen to me, you wouldn’t need to piece anything together. I can tell you exactly what occurred!”

“Yes, and I really do want to hear your story, as soon as we get through this short questionnaire. I really do appreciate your cooperation, Mrs. Weasley. I know how hard this must be for you.”

Hermione gave her a small tight smile. 

The Healer gave her a small smile back. “Can we get you a drink of water?”

“Er… no, no thanks,” Hermione said in a much softer tone, staring down as if ashamed of her earlier temperament.

Healer Dixon nodded. “Now, can you tell me where you and Mr. Potter were found when the Aurors arrived?”

“In my kitchen, if you must know,” Hermione said with weary resignation. 

“And, were you with Mr. Potter in any other areas of the house or outside of the house before they arrived?”

“Um… no,” Hermione replied, her brow furrowing again.

“Just a few more questions, Mrs. Weasley.” 

“Thank goodness,” Hermione mumbled.

“Now, I must ask, were there any weapons used?”

Hermione paused. “No, I mean… well, this isn’t what you think it was, it was completely consensual,” she said emphatically.

“So there was a weapon used?”

“Not the way you think it was. Look, did you hear what I just said?”

“Yes, I did, and I’ve made note of it, but if you don’t mind, please tell me what type of weapon was used?”

“A knife, but—” 

“Do you have any lacerations or open wounds?”

“No! Harry would never cut me!”

“Of course, and to the best of your knowledge, is the knife still in the kitchen or was it discarded?”

“It’s still in the kitchen,” Hermione said nervously.

“Very good,” she said as she motioned her head to the assistant in the corner.

“Yes?” the young girl asked.

“Please tell the Auror that escorted Mrs. Weasley here that we’ll need the clothing she discarded before coming here and that there should be a knife that will need to be taken in as evidence.”

“No! You don’t understand! We were role-playing a rape!”

Healer Dixon stared at Hermione for a long moment. “You were role-playing rape?”

“Yes!”

“I see,” Healer Dixon said with a blank expression before scribbling a long note on the sheet.

“If that is true, Mrs. Weasley, then this will be all over with very soon.”

“Great!” Hermione said in relief.

The Healer stood up and went to a cabinet, and pulled out a vial of what looked to be some sort of potion and a flimsy robe. 

“What are you doing?”

“Prepping for your physical examination; don’t worry it’s not painful.”

“Please, I don’t need to be here!” Hermione said for what felt like the tenth time. 

“The examination is quite harmless and quick; it would be over with before you know it.” 

“But I told you, I wasn’t raped!”

“Well, it’s standard procedure, considering the circumstances in which they found you. I’m not going to force you to do anything, that’s the last thing we want to do,” she said, turning around to look at Hermione.

“Perfect, I want to leave!” Hermione said, standing up.

“But, if it really was role-play as you say it was, then this will also clear Mr. Potter of quite a bit of speculation and suspicion.”

Hermione let out a long sigh. “Fine, what do I have do?”

“If you don’t mind, please undress and put this on, and please drink the entire contents of this vial,” Healer Dixon said, holding out the robe and vial to Hermione. 

With a scowl, Hermione snatched the robe and vial from her and stomped off to the bathroom. 

When she came out, she noticed that the assistant had returned as was waiting by the examination table. Healer Dixon motioned Hermione over to the table with a welcoming gesture. 

Hermione gritted her teeth in frustration as Healer Dixon asked her to open her mouth, lift her arms, and spread her legs slightly while she waved a wand over her slowly. 

The assistant took notes as images and different hues of light flashed over various areas of Hermione’s body. Hermione tried not to look down to see what her body was radiating but it was very distracting and she found herself staring at the Healer Dixon’s wand and her body in fascination as the wand revealed outlines of tissues and bone as if she were transparent. 

When the physical examination was done, she moved the wand towards Hermione’s mouth.

“Now, dear, I’m going to need your help with this one. If you don’t mind, please open your mouth and say ‘ahh’ for me,” she said gently.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Aaaah.”

Healer Dixon frowned.

“Mrs. Weasley, are there any details you wish to disclose about the encounter that you may have left out?”

“No, I’ve told you quite enough already!”

Healer Dixon nodded slowly. 

“Well, what is it? Why don’t you believe me?” Hermione asked.

“Well, my scans are picking up deep abrasions on the roof and the sides of your mouth, faint bruising around your throat, chafing in the vagina region, and your right cheek is quite red still, as if you were hit rather hard.”

“I told you we were role-playing!”

Healer Dixon appeared skeptical. “Well, I must say that that’s quite a bit of force, even for role-playing.”

Hermione shrugged. “We like it rough. What business is it of yours anyway?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest.

“Mrs. Weasley, when there is suspicion and sufficient evidence of abuse or an attack revealed to a medical official, a Mind Healer, a law enforcement official, or school administrator, the Ministry requires a full investigation.”

Hermione huffed. “But I’m telling you it was consensual; that should be enough to dispel any suspicion!”

Healer Dixon pursed her lips. “I’m sorry, but I’m afraid, despite what you are telling me, I will have to recommend that this matter be investigated further to rule out rape.”

“How about you scan my wet knickers when they bring back my clothing!” Hermione said.

“Mrs. Weasley, that’s hardly proof. Many times victims experience confusion and guilt about the way their body responds to a… er, misunderstanding.”

“I’m not confused! I fucking loved it, it was the hottest fuck I’ve ever had!” Hermione declared raising her voice.

Both Healer Dixon and her assistant drew back with shocked gasps.

“Well, there are many documented cases where victims experience orgasm. Physiologically, it’s natural to respond to stimulation, even when it’s unwanted,” Healer Dixon stammered.

“I’ve had enough of this, I’m leaving!” Hermione said, picking up her sweats and going back to the bathroom and slamming the door. When she came back out, she made as if she were heading toward the door.

“Mrs. Weasley,” she said cautiously.

“No, that’s enough!” Hermione said, looking at her firmly. 

“Fine, the Chief of Aurors would like to speak to you,” Healer Dixon finally said in resignation.

Hermione inwardly groaned. Hadn’t she been humiliated enough, she just wanted everyone to go away. 

“If you like I can stay,” she offered. 

“No thanks,” she muttered.

“All right, well, please press this button and we’ll come and find you if you need anything,” she said, pointing to a button near the wall, before leaving with her assistant. 

When she opened the door, a heavyset man with thinning brown hair met was standing there. The Chief of Aurors and Hermione exchanged an awkward glance, and then the man immediately moved to the side to talk to someone. Seconds later, he reappeared with Kyle, the Auror who had escorted Hermione to the hospital. 

“Hello, Mrs. Weasley, how are you doing?” the Chief asked in an upbeat tone.

“I’d be a lot better when I can see Harry!” Hermione said, balling her fists at her side in frustration.

“Oh, don’t you worry your pretty little head about him, they’re taking care of him just fine,” said the Chief with a forced smile.

Hermione’s face fell. “Is he all right? Is he conscious?” 

The Chief moved past her, looking around as if he really didn’t want to be there. “Ma’am, they’re doing everything they can, but I need to talk to you about what happened. If you don’t mind, I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“I think that I’ve answered quite enough questions for one day!” Hermione said in exasperation.

He took a deep breath, as if preparing himself for something difficult. “Yes, I know, but I need to get to the bottom of what happened before I can release my Aurors.”

“You can’t let them go home with this information! You have to Obliviate them!”

“First I need to know what exactly happened,” he said, looking at Hermione squarely.

Hermione threw up her hands. “Why? Why is this anyone’s business but ours?” 

“I think you know the answer to that question,” he said plainly.

Hermione looked up at Kyle and then back at the Chief biting her lip. “Sir, if it’s alright, I’d rather talk to you in private… alone.”

After giving Kyle a dismissive nod, the Chief closed the door and turned back to face Hermione with a grave expression.

“Mrs. Weasley, I need to know what he did to you,” he said, holding his breath.

“Harry did not rape me!” Hermione said firmly.

“That’s not what it looks like. Now, everyone knows you two have been through a lot together, so it’s understandable that you may feel protective over him, even after what he did. But it’s not right. You shouldn’t try to protect someone who hurt you. I want you know that its alright to tell me the truth. You’re safe here.”

“You want the truth?” Hermione asked. ‘The truth is that Harry Potter and I are having an affair, and I asked him to dress up like a Death Eater so that we could role-play him raping me.”

The Chief raised his eyebrows and stared back at her in amazement and then shook his head firmly. “I don’t… No, that’s mental!”

“I know it seems like it, but—”

“No!” He said, waving his hands in front of him in disbelief. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, it’s not my place to judge. I know married people sometimes wander. Hell, I’ve even cheated on my wife before. Once! Of course we worked through that, but… no… no. That’s just… unbelievable!”

“Please, sir, it’s the truth,” Hermione said desperately with tears in her eyes.

The Chief shook his head. “It just doesn’t sound right, Mrs. Weasley. I mean Harry Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World fought against Death Eaters; he was almost killed by them and his parents died at the hands of You-Know-Who. Why would he dress up as a Death Eater and do something like that?”

Hermione bit her lip, her face turning red from embarrassment. “You don’t understand, we had this thing… it’s hard to explain, but I swear it was consensual. Please, I’m begging you; help make this all go away!”

The Chief gave Hermione a ridiculous ‘are-you-kidding-me” expression. “Mrs. Weasley, I’m afraid it’s a bit late to ask for discretion; things are already out of hand here.” 

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean? Who else knows?”

“Enough people. Don’t be surprised if this surfaces in tomorrow’s _Prophet_.”

“But you can’t! There must be something you can do?!” she said frantically.

The Chief shook his head. “I’ll do what I can, but I got to tell you, this thing is becoming bigger than me.”

“You’re the Chief of Aurors, what do you mean? You can control this!”

“Look, let me break this down for you: I’ve got my most visible Auror laid up in the hospital because his best friend, another very well-known and respected Auror, beat the hell out of him; and on top of that, the reason why my Aurors got called to your home in the first place was because your husband reported that a Death Eater was attacking you. I don’t think I need to tell you what kind of commotion that caused back at the station. Now, I have to go back and explain to everyone why the call was bogus, and why my top Auror, who wasn’t even on duty at the time, is in the hospital. So, if you can help me out here, I’d really appreciate it.”

Hermione nodded, biting her thumbnail in contemplation. “I see. I’ll think of something, I’m good at planning things, just give me some time.”

The Chief looked doubtful. “Mrs. Weasley, even if you could come up with something plausible, you’re asking me to Obliviate three Aurors based on what? They were responding to an emergency signal made by another Auror, your husband. You’re asking me to tamper with the memories of my men and potential evidence in a case of what looks to be a good guy gone psycho. You were tied to the kitchen table for Merlin’s sake!” he said, rubbing his forehead.

“But my word should be enough; I’m telling you what happened!”

“What you’re telling me sounds more mental than Harry Potter going psycho and assaulting you,” the Chief reasoned. “I mean honestly, there are a fair number in and out of the Ministry who were betting he would snap sooner or later. Some think he’s just a bit too normal to have experienced the things he’s been through.”

“But Harry is normal!” Hermione insisted. “He’s just really kinky, and so am I! And if that’s a crime, then I’m just as guilty as he is!” 

The Chief shook his head. “I’m sorry, but if that’s your story, I’m going to have to do a proper investigation,” he said, standing up.

Hermione rubbed her temples. “I know! Give me Veritaserum! That’ll settle this right away!” she said, her eyes lighting up.

“I have to get a court order from the Ministry to use that on a victim. Now, I may be able to use that on Harry, but even that will take some paperwork that will take some tricky explaining. Either way, I have to figure out how to sort through this without all hell breaking loose.”

Hermione threw her hands up and fell back against the wall. 

The Chief looked down at her regretfully. “I don’t know how long it will take, but if I see any way to Obliviate my Aurors and make this all go away, you have my word, I’ll do it,” he said walking to the door.

“I’m sorry,” he said, giving her one last look before shutting the door behind him. 

Hermione stared at the door for a long time and then finally broke down, crying into her hands.

~~~*~~~

The Chief walked outside and motioned towards his Auror David. “Where are Kyle and Justin?”

“They’re both back at the house. Kyle’s gathering Mrs. Weasley’s clothing and a knife Harry reportedly used, and Justin’s sitting with Ron,” he said.

“This is a right mess if I ever seen one,” the Chief said, scratching his head.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s just mental. I can’t believe Harry would do such a thing,” David said in awe.

“Yeah, me either. Although, I’m still not sure what he did exactly,” the Chief said, looking at David.

“Well, it’s obvious isn’t it?” David said matter-of-factly.

“Is it?” The Chief questioned, folding his arms over his chest. “What exactly did you three walk in on?”

“Just Ron kicking his arse!” David said, looking impressed. “He was totally out of control. I’ve never seen him that angry, and I’ve seen him blow steam more than once.” 

The Chief shook his head in disbelief.

“But, I’ll tell you this,” David said, leaning in. “Harry was laying there taking it like he knew he had it coming, and there was that Death Eater mask laying right beside him, as plain as day.”

The Chief nodded. “Open up a speaking portal and tell Kyle and Justin I want them back here right now. I’ll sit with Weasley for a bit and then go pick up Harry’s wife.”

“Sure thing, Chief,” David said. 

Justin and Kyle were there within five minutes. The Chief motioned for them to follow him to an empty hospital room.

“What’s this about, Chief?” Justin asked.

“I need the three of you to stay put. Think you could do that?”

They all looked at each other and nodded.  
“Sure thing, Chief,” Kyle said.

“I want you to wait for me,” the Chief ordered. “I’ll be back shortly, after I have a talk with Weasley, and go pick up Harry’s wife. Until then, you’re not to speak to anyone about this, understand?”

“Yes, sir,” they all said in unison.

“Chief, the Weasley wards are locked,” Justin informed. “Even to Aurors. You’ll have to Apparate out on the street.”

“Well, that’s interesting now, isn’t it?” the Chief said before leaving the three Aurors staring at each other in thick silence.

~~~*~~~

The Chief knocked on the Weasleys’ front door more for ceremony than anything; he knew Ron wouldn’t answer.

“Weasley?” he called as he stepped inside. 

There was no answer. He walked around to the living room and saw Ron with his head in his hands sitting on the couch in the dark. 

_“Lumos.”_ He took a seat beside Ron, and said nothing. They sat in silence for a long time as he searched for words to fit the occasion. 

Finally, he decided to try a gentle approach. He put his hand on Ron’s back and felt the man’s frame shake as a great sob erupted, releasing a river of tears.

The Chief rubbed Ron’s back awkwardly. “It’s all right… it’s… it’s okay, it’s okay,” he whispered.

“No, it’s not,” Ron sobbed and then growled knocking his forehead against his palms. “I can’t believe… oh, gods, what did I do? Is he dead?”

“No, he’s going to be all right; they’re fixing him up as we speak, and we took your wife in for observation,” the Chief consoled.

Ron looked up. “’Mione? Is she hurt, too?”

The Chief shook his head. “We don’t think so. It doesn’t look like she’s injured, but you probably know more than the rest of us,” he said cautiously.

Ron scowled. “I obviously don’t know shit! I’m an Auror, and I didn’t even know that my best mate was fucking my wife!” he said, bursting into tears once again.

The Chief waited for his sobbing to subside. “Well, can you tell me what happened?” he asked gently.

Ron shook his head and wrapped his arms around her chest, holding himself. “It was like it happened in slow motion or something. I came home, because… well, I thought something was going on between the two of them. And when I got here, I didn’t know it was him. I thought it was a Death Eater… How was I supposed to know? He was on her, you know? It looked like…”

“He was assaulting her?”

Ron nodded. “And he then did wandless magic.”

“Wandless magic?” the Chief asked in surprise.

Ron nodded slowly.

“Christ, I had no idea,” the Chief said in concern.

“I knew he used to be able to do it,” Ron said. “But he hasn’t done it in years, and I had forgotten. It still would have never occurred to me that it was _Harry_ doing that!”

The Chief waited in silence for Ron to finish.

“So then I tried to Stupefy him but he just waived it off with his hand, like it was nothing. Then I got worried and called for backup. After that I charged at him, but then he threw me against the wall with his magic,” he recounted as if were a bad dream.

“No wand?”

Ron shook his head. “Nope.”

The Chief nodded. “And then?”

“And then, I got real scared, you know? So when he came at me… I, I mean, I thought he was a Death Eater, so I did the first spell that came to mind… the Cruciatus,” Ron said, wincing as if expecting the Chief to reprimand him.

The Chief clapped his hand to his mouth, trying to hide his surprise. 

“Hermione had been Silenced, and so I undid the Silencing Charm and that’s when she told me it was Harry… and then when I found out that she was telling the truth, I just… I lost it,” he finished in a whisper.

The Chief took a deep breath. “I have to ask you this, Weasley. Do you think he forced himself on her?”

Ron just stared at the carpet for several moments. “I don’t know what to think, Chief. I don’t know what to think anymore, nothing seems real right now.”

They sat in silence for a few more moments before the Chief ventured to speak. 

“Weasley, I’m real sorry this happened to you. I know this isn’t easy.”

Ron clenched his teeth, looking as if he were trying to hold off fresh tears. 

“You know, normally, I would have to give some type of disciplinary sanction for the use of an Unforgiveable and an attack on an Auror.”

Ron nodded, and stood up, pulling his robe over his head. 

“What are you doing?” the Chief asked sternly.

“Turning my robe and badge in,” Ron said, handing it to the Chief.

The Chief shook his head. “Not so fast Weasley. Look, under the circumstances, I’d be a right foul bastard to charge you with _anything_. I know you were in a tough spot. For crying out loud, you thought it was a bloody Death Eater. I can’t say I might not have done the same thing myself,” he said, looking up at Ron.

Ron sat back down, gripping his robe tightly like a security blanket. 

“Tell you what, this is gonna be a sticky spot for the Auror Department and it could potentially be a very explosive scandal for the Ministry, which we don’t need right now. I already have Kingsley on my arse for the Gringott’s incident; I don’t need any more shit.” 

“I’m not following you,” Ron said in puzzlement.

“Until I find out what really happened, I’m asking you to keep quiet,” the Chief said softly as if he were repeating something dirty. “And in exchange, I’ll let you work any unit, any shift you want, and you’ll be put on the fast track for the Captain position.” 

Ron narrowed his eyes. “And what about Harry?”

“We’ll deal with Potter, whether he’s guilty of rape or not, you won’t ever have to run into him at work again. I can guarantee you that,” he said with a determined look.

~~~*~~~

Ginny was furious. The Chief had just shown up at her house and demanded that she come along with him, not giving her any information, only that it involved Harry.

She didn’t take well to being kept in the dark and she certainly didn’t like hospitals. The whole thing gave her a bad feeling and she wanted to wring someone’s neck. If they didn’t tell her what was going on soon, she thought that she very well might. When she arrived with him, he left her side immediately and then a young witch appeared.

“Mrs. Potter, please follow me,” the young witch said as she began walking down a long quiet corridor. 

Ginny looked around, growing more irritated by the second. “Where are you taking me?”

The young witch turned around as she continued to walk, putting much effort into looking as pleasant as possible. “Ma’am, please, you will be receiving information shortly.”

“If I don’t get answers soon, I will not be responsible for the hexes coming from my wand!” Ginny said, giving the young witch a deadly stare.

The girl flinched slightly but kept the smile fixed on her lips. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, please, I don’t want to have to ask you to turn in your wand.”

Ginny relaxed slightly and pursed her lips.

The young witch continued to smile. “Now, if you please follow me, you’ll find out everything you need to know.” She turned around once more, picking up her pace.

Ginny set her jaw, following briskly behind the assistant to a small white room that was considerably hidden from the rest of the rooms she passed.

The assistant held the door open as Ginny came inside. She turned around in surprise when the Chief reappeared followed by a Healer after which the assistant closed the door.

“I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Ginny asked, looking at them anxiously. 

“Mrs. Potter, we just need to ask you a few questions,” the Healer said.

“Why? What’s happened? I need to see my husband!” she said angrily.

“Mrs. Potter, I’ve been informed that Mr. Potter’s condition has just been elevated from critical to serious. However, he still cannot see anyone at this time; we’ll keep you informed about his status,” the Healer said.

A frantic look of worry crossed Ginny’s features. “Critical condition? What happened?!”

“Ma’am, we’ll give you more information very soon,” the Healer said, looking up at the Chief, who looked back at her and nodded curtly.

“Is he all right? You have to tell me something!” she said, looking back between the both of them.

“We’ll know soon enough, but first we need you to answer a few important questions,” the Healer asked softly. 

“What kind of questions?” Ginny asked.

The Chief nodded to dismiss the Healer and her assistant. They shut the door behind them.

“What is this about?” Ginny demanded. “What happened to Harry? Was he attacked? I thought his shift ended at five!”

“Mrs. Potter… Ginny, can I call you that?”

“Yeah, sure,” Ginny said dismissively.

“We found Harry in the Weasley residence,” he said slowly, waiting for her reaction.

“Oh, no, what happened, are Ron and Hermione all right?” she asked.

“Ah, yes, they are, but—”

“What is it?” she asked, sensing something else was wrong.

“Well… I hate to tell you this, but your brother, Ron, assaulted Harry.”

“What? Ron? No! Your wrong, Ron would never… oh, gods… where was Hermione when all of this occurred?”

“Well… Mrs. Weasley was there as well—” 

“What _aren’t_ you telling me?” Ginny asked, narrowing her eyes.

“When your brother arrived, he found Mrs. Weasley bound to the kitchen table, and Harry was—”

“I knew it! I knew it!” Ginny shouted, clenching her fists.

“You knew what?”

“Ron must have walked in on them. They were shagging weren’t they?”

“You mean Harry and Mrs. Weasley?”

“I mean, that bitch Hermione! She’s been fucking my husband hasn’t she?”

The Chief looked startled and swallowed. “Well, we aren’t really sure _what_ happened. I mean, she was found tied to the table, and Harry was…” he shook his head before continuing. “Harry was disguised as a Death Eater and it _appears_ that he was assaulting Mrs. Weasley when your brother walked in,” he finally got out, looking at the floor.

Ginny’s mouth dropped open and she clapped her hand to her mouth. “A Death Eater? Harry?” she finished off with a hollow laugh. “That’s ridiculous!”

The Chief looked up at her fixedly as if to convey he was telling the truth. “I know how it sounds, but I have to ask you, have you noticed anything unusual about Harry lately? Has he been experiencing any nightmares or flashbacks?”

“Harry? No.”

“Has he seemed stressed, edgy, mentioned any events or persons from the war?”

“Harry’s been fine. I mean, well, he’s been a little different,” she said, staring off for a moment.

The Chief drew closer to her. “Different how?”

“Well,” Ginny said, thinking out loud not looking at the Chief. “He’s been distant, cranky, sometimes cold and preoccupied.” 

The Chief nodded and scribbled something down on his notepad. 

Ginny snapped out of her musings and looked back at the Chief sharply. “But that’s probably because he was having an affair!”

The Chief took a deep breath. “Ginny, I know this may be difficult to talk about, but has Harry ever forced himself on you?”

“Me? We hardly ever even… Merlin, no. Harry may be an arsehole, but he’s no rapist.”

~~~*~~~

As soon as he left Ginny, a young witch came running up to the Chief.

“Sir, she’s demanding to see you; we don’t know how much longer we can hold her!”

The Chief ran behind the witch back to where he had left Hermione.

“I demand that you check my memories, right now! And after that, I want an apology and then I want to see Harry!”

Healer Dixon looked at the Chief with an anxious expression and nodded. 

The Chief looked back at Hermione and asked her to sit down. “Are you ready?”

“More than ready!”

He nodded and pointed his wand at her. “ _Legillimens!_ ”

His eyes widened as scenes jumped out at him. He realized he went back too far as he saw a young Hermione holding hands with a very young Harry in the common room of a some sort of dormitory. 

He flipped through several years, past her hugging him after he emerged from the water with another girl and then past Harry staring up at her in wide-eyed wonder at what looked to be some sort of ball. He began to become frustrated and mentally pushed through several years more, until he paused at her wedding to Ron, she was looking over, and Harry was staring back at her in concern… that was interesting, but not what he was looking for. 

He kept flipping until he came upon a scene with the two of them in what looked like the Weasley kitchen. Hermione was firmly telling Harry that she would never cheat on Ron, the Chief nodded and moved on. He moved past anything that didn’t stand out until he came to a scene of Hermione being wrestled to the floor by Harry of what appeared to be the Weasley living room. She was fighting and saying no and she even slapped him. 

He gasped as he saw Harry slap her back and proceed to take her while yelling that she was his and only his. He shook his head and moved quickly to another memory revealing a man assaulting her in a dark alley. 

He squinted trying to hear clearly, and he could hear her whisper Harry’s name and although the man taking her against the brick wall did not look like Harry, he responded. 

Next he saw Harry in his Auror’s robe running up to her, asking if she had been attacked. When she said she had, he made a repugnant offer to keep the attack private if she would offer him a sexual favor. He huffed in shocked outrage, taking himself out of her mind immediately.

“I’ve seen enough! Mrs. Weasley, I’m so very sorry!”

“What, what do you mean?” Hermione asked, looking confused.

“It’s obvious that you are the victim of repeated attacks by Harry, and that somehow you’ve convinced yourself that you deserve what he’s doing to you,” he said, looking up at Healer Dixon who motioned to her assistant.

The young witch left the room and came back with two orderlies and a much older woman who looked over at Hermione in motherly concern.

“I’m going to have to refer you to our Mind Healing unit for observation,” Healer Dixon said gently.

Hermione looked at the older woman and Healer Dixon before standing up in protest. “No! I’m not sick! I’ve been having an affair with Harry Potter; everything we’ve done has been consensual!”

“That’s not what your memories showed me,” the Chief said firmly.

“Well, did you look at all of them?” Hermione asked, looking at him as if he were incompetent.

“I’ve seen enough! Now, I’m so sorry you’ve had to go through this, but I have no choice but to treat this as a rape case, and if you won’t press charges, the Ministry may have to do it on your behalf.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry dear, you’ll be staying in our mind healing ward, they’ll take good care of you,” she said, motioning her head towards the guards.

“If you would just look at all of my memories you’d see we were planning to tell our spouses about the affair so that we could be together. There’s even a memory of us making love and discussing it!”

“Even if that is true, and don’t worry, we _will_ look at all of your memories soon enough, there’s no way to tell if you were suffering from coercion,” the Chief insisted. 

“A skilled Legilimens would be able to sort through the feelings attached to my memories! It’s obvious you haven’t mastered the craft; I demand a second opinion!”

“Look here, Missy, I’m Chief of Aurors! And I’m good enough at Legilimens to know when I see foul play!”

“Why won’t you believe me?” Hermione practically cried in frustration.

“Mrs. Weasley, what are the odds that a Ministry official, someone who worked on the side of the light would consent and enjoy role playing rape by someone dressed up in a Death Eater costume? You have to see this thing from our point of view,” said Healer Dixon.

Hermione lunged at the Chief and was immediately restrained by the two orderlies, while the Chief backed up, startled, and nodded to Healer Dixon and the Mind Healer to step outside.

Once they were outside, they all looked at each other. 

“Well, what do you think? Should we really hold her here?” the Chief asked, addressing the Mind Healer. 

“I think she’s experiencing classic signs of post traumatic attachment to her rapist in its most extreme form,” the Mind Healer said.

“No doubt because she has a very strong bond with her attacker, it exacerbates her delusions of what occurred. Poor thing probably blames herself and is using this role-play rationalization to clear Potter of all guilt,” Healer Dixon whispered. 

“I think it would be safe to hold her for at least twenty-four hours, who knows what she’s capable of deluding herself into thinking. She could go home and harm her husband or even herself.”

Healer Dixon nodded. “Yes, I agree, you should keep her, make sure she’s well taken care of. I can’t imagine what Potter has put her through.”

The Chief shook his head and rubbed his temple. “I’ll tell ya, it’s a mess. The Ministry and Auror department are going to be on the cooker for this one, and the _Prophet_ will have a field day!”

“I must say, for the sake of Mrs. Weasley’s mental health and our own patients here at St. Mungo’s, that it’d be in everyone’s best interest if there were a way to keep this quiet,” Healer Dixon whispered. 

“I’m working on it, believe me,” the Chief said, exhaling. 

Suddenly, the young assistant came running up to them.

“He’s awake, he’s awake!” she exclaimed, waving them to follow her. They all looked at each other and walked quickly to see about Harry.

~~~*~~~

He was aware of a sharp pain in his chest, and his eyes felt swollen shut. He tried to open them, but it felt as if a dozen bees had stung him, and he could only see faint slithers of light through the slits.

He heard himself groan and then a flurry of activity followed. People were rushing to his side.

“Harry, Harry, can you hear me? This is Healer Smith; I need for you to say something if you can hear me.”

He tried to talk, but the only thing that came out was a faint dry croak. He could barely lift his arms, they felt like dead weight, but he tried nonetheless.

“He’s awake, he’s moving!” he heard the woman’s voice shout. It didn’t sound familiar and it hurt too much to concentrate; his head was pounding worse than any hangover he had ever known. 

“Is he going to make it?” he heard someone whisper.

“Yes, I think he’ll be fine, but please, we need everyone to clear out so that we can work on him.”

A young girl was weeping, and there were voices around her reassuring her and then their voices grew faint and they were all gone, except for one. He felt someone feel his forehead and then stroke his cheek. It wasn’t a loving, tender stroke like that of a mother or lover, but it was cold, clinical and measuring. And then it was gone. 

He tried to move once more, but the pain ebbed sharply, preventing him from daring to do so again. 

He fell back into sleep once more and then awoke again. This time though, there was hardly anyone around. Only one young witch, who asked him how he felt. He was able to nod his head and then she left quickly soon after. 

When she came back, there were three people with her; two women, and a man that he recognized very well.

“Can I have a few moments with him?” he heard his Chief say.

The women both looked at Harry and then at the Chief before leaving him alone with him.

He tried to swallow but his mouth was very dry and he could feel that his top lip was practically split open. It felt like it would tear if he tried to form any words, but he had to say something. 

“Chief,” he croaked as he tried to get a clearer view of the blurry outline of his boss through the slits of his badly bruised eyelids.

“Harry,” the Chief said gravely, sitting by his side.

“I’m sorry,” Harry said, trying to shake his head. It hurt, he wouldn’t try it again. He felt tears forming in the corners of his eyes, but they stung, the salt seeping into cuts he didn’t even know he had until he felt them.

“I guess I had it coming,” he managed to say in a ragged whisper.

The Chief looked down at him strangely. “So, you’re confessing then?”

Harry inhaled as much as the pain in his chest would allow. “Yeah, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? I know how disgusting you must think I am, but it’s a little late now to try and deny it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that Harry,” he said, pulling out his wand and saying a locking spell that bound one of Harry’s arms to side of the bed.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, unable to look at what the Chief had done to his arm, but feeling a tightening restraint on his wrist, binding him to the metal bar of the bed.

“Protocol Harry, you know the drill. You have the right to a fair and speedy hearing.”

“Hearing?”

“Where you’ll be judged by your peers for multiple counts of mental torture and the sexual assault of Mrs. Hermione Granger Weasley.”


	10. Closure

There were a few moments of stunned silence before Harry finally opened his mouth to speak. 

“What do you mean sexual assault? Rape? Chief, you got to be kidding me?” he croaked, looking up in amazement.

The Chief shook his head. “No, I’m afraid not, Harry. I saw Mrs. Weasley’s memories myself. Now don’t try to talk me out of it; I have to treat you the same way I’d treat any suspect.” 

Harry laughed until chest began to hurt again. “But I’m not a suspect… I mean, I know what it looks like, but you’ve got it all wrong.”

“Well what do you call tying her to the kitchen table and using a knife on ‘er then?” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on! You’re twisting this all around. Look who you’re talking to!” 

Chief drew back, giving Harry an once-over. “Maybe that’s the problem, Harry, I haven’t been watching you like I should have, even though I was told I should be.”

“By who?”

“I ignored the lot of them and let you walk around like your shit didn’t stink. But at the end of it, I guess there’s a bit of darkness in everyone, even you, Harry Potter.”

“Chief, we were role-playing!”

The Chief narrowed his eyes. “What did just you say?” 

“I said we were role-playing rape! She asked me to dress up like a Death Eater and pretend I was, well, you know… raping her!”

“Mrs. Weasley said the same thing,” he said scratching his head, looking at Harry strangely.

“Because it’s the truth!” Harry said in exasperation.

That’s mental!” the Chief said, almost laughing.

“I know, but that’s what happened!”

The Chief stood there staring at Harry, and Harry stared back at him unabashedly and earnestly.

A scowl grew on the Chief’s face. “What in the hell were you kids thinking?”

Harry winced and looked away embarrassed.

“Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused? I’m sitting on a huge scandal because of this! And frankly, it’s a bit unbelievable. Both of you would have to be out of your minds to do such a thing.”

Harry huffed. “Chief, what are the chances that we would both lie about it if were rape? When has that ever happened?”

“Well, you could be blackmailing her or something…”

Harry shook his head in disapproval.

The Chief put his hand to his chin. “Or maybe you’ve got her so twisted around your finger she believes that it’s role-play.”

“Now who sounds mental?”

“Well, what you’re telling me is the craziest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’ve heard a lot of in my time. I still don’t understand it.”

Harry almost shrugged, but pain shot up his arm. “It’s kinky, for sure, but it’s not illegal, and I was going to return the mask, I swear it.”

The Chief sighed in exasperation. “You think I care about that damn mask, Harry? And what in Dumbledore’s name, what were you thinking when you broke into the confiscation vault to steal a Death Eater mask for your kinky sex games?”

Harry shook his head as much as he could. “I wasn’t really… just wanted to make her happy, I guess.”

“That must be one hell of a woman!”

Harry tried to smile a little. “She is.”

The Chief began to pace beside Harry’s bed. “I still have to figure out how to make this all go away quietly; I’ve got three Aurors who think they know what happened.”

“Can’t you Obliviate them?”

The Chief stopped pacing to cast a hard glare at Harry. “You and Mrs. Weasley seem to think a lot alike. You want me to Obliviate three Aurors just because you two can’t cheat on your spouses like normal people?”

Harry looked back up at him with a guilty expression.

“I also have the medical staff here and folks back at the station who know Weasley called in something about a Death Eater. I can’t very well Obliviate all of those people, too,” the Chief continued.

Harry nodded. “Well, the medical staff is easy enough. You tell them the truth about what we were doing since they can’t leak information anyway. The people back at the station… all they need to know is that Ron saw someone dressed like a Death Eater attempting to attack Hermione. You could tell them that it was a regular intruder using a Death Eater disguise and that the attack was averted by me… that’s how I ended up in the hospital,” Harry finished, looking quite pleased with himself. 

“And the other three Aurors, Harry?”

“You can erase their memory of even being called to the scene,” Harry offered.

“There will be people who know they were called to the scene you know.”

“So?” Harry replied. “Just Obliviate the Aurors and tell them that if asked any questions, they’re to say they didn’t see anything, and if anyone wants any more information, they’ll have to see you. That’ll shut everyone up.”

The Chief’s face reflected a mixture of disdain and admiration. “Well, I still need some sort of proof of what you’re saying. The medical staff here is convinced Mrs. Weasley is the victim of repeated attacks, and if I didn’t like you so much Harry, I’d have half a mind to still believe it myself!”

“Well, did you look at Hermione’s memories?”

“That’s why I arrested you in the first place!” the Chief said, grimacing.

Harry wrinkled his brow in confusion. “There’s no way… wait a minute, you just skimmed them, didn’t you?”

“Well, what do you want me to do, Harry? Sit there and watch every bloody depraved act you two have done? I saw enough of it to know that it could get you a long stint at Azkaban!”

Harry shuddered and coughed a little. “Okay, how about you look at my memories? I’ll tell you which ones to look for.”

The Chief tightened his lips. “I-I don’t want to…”

Harry frowned. “What do you mean? I’m offering you my memories as evidence!”

“I just don’t want to all right!” the Chief said, putting his hands to his temples and massaging them.

Harry studied him for a moment. “What is it? You’re scared to get in my head?”

The Chief looked away. “No offense, Harry, but… I mean, I heard that even You-Know-Who couldn’t stand being in your head for too long. There’re some things I’d just rather not see.”

Harry ground his teeth, thinking. “Fine, well, can you at least get a Pensieve in here?”

The Chief cracked the tiniest smile before nodding. “Now that, I can do!”

Harry sighed in relief. “Thanks Chief, you won’t regret it, you’ll see, I’m innocent,” he said giving the other man a small smile.

The Chief’s eyes went sharp and he drew closer. “Not so fast, what’s this I hear about you doing wandless magic?”

Harry swallowed.

“You know you’re supposed to register yourself with our National Security Bureau, especially given that you’re an Auror.”

“I know,” Harry whispered.

“Do you know how this makes you look? It doesn’t exactly help your credibility.”

Harry closed his eyes and nodded. “I didn’t want any more attention. Do you know what kind of scrutiny I’d be under? People already either think I’m some type of super hero or freak, and I’m neither. I just want to be left alone,” he finished with a sigh. 

Chief shook his head. “Even still, you could have told me about it, Harry.”

“I didn’t think it was really a big deal; it’s not like I’m using it on the job or attacking anyone with it.”

“It’s still dangerous, people have a right to know who they’re dealing with, even if they have good intentions! And it doesn’t help that you used it against an Auror.”

“I really didn’t mean to, it just happened,” Harry said regretfully.

“Which is exactly the reason why wandless wizards are required to register!”

“I understand,” Harry said softly.

“Do you? Because there seems to be a lot of misunderstanding going on with you right now. You have to see it from my point of view, Harry.”

“I do, Chief,” Harry said, before his eyes went wide. “Where’s Hermione? Is she okay?”

“She’s all right I suppose; we’ve got her in the Mind Healing ward.”

“Oh… oh, no!” Harry said, looking distraught.

“Oh, yes, Harry,” the Chief said with a scolding look.

“Well, go on then, the sooner we can get this over with the sooner we can get her out of there!” 

The Chief gave him an irritated glance before exiting.

~~~*~~~

When the Chief returned with the stone gray bowl, Healer Dixon, and Mind Healer Johnson were with him.

They both watched Harry with poorly concealed disgust and trepidation.

“Now, do we have to watch every… thing? ‘Cause they all look like rape to me and to tell you the truth, I’d rather not,” the Chief said with grimace.

Harry rolled his eyes. “No, you won’t have to watch us shagging. There are just two memories I want you to see,” he said, slowly lifting his wand up to his temple. He retrieved two long gray strands and placed them into the bowl. 

The memories swirled together, producing a thick gray mist. The Chief, Healer Dixon, and the Mind Healer Johnson all looked down into it tentatively before fully immersing themselves in it.

At first the images were blurry, but then they quickly came into focus. They were standing in the middle of a modest living room that the Chief recognized as the Weasley’s. 

Harry was sitting on the living room chair, stroking Hermione’s face as she sat on the couch with her eyes shut. Suddenly, she opened her eyes and smirked up at him. 

_“Harry, since when do you care about being scolded?”_

They watched as Harry withdrew his hand and looked at her gravely. 

_“Let me get this straight, once and for all,” he said. “You want me to take you when I want, no matter what you say, before, during, or after?”_

She looked back at him in silence. 

_“Why?” he asked._

_“I can’t live with the guilt, Harry. I can’t look at myself in the mirror knowing I’m married to Ron and cheating on him with our best friend. Saying no to you makes it easier somehow.”_

_“Well, I’m not exactly comfortable with the idea that I may actually wind up forcing myself on you,” Harry said. “What if there comes a point when you really don’t want it? How will I know?”_

_“I’ll let you know when it’s okay,” Hermione responded._

_“How?”_

_“You’re smart, you’ll figure it out,” Hermione said with a smile._

And then the memory shifted slightly, going fuzzy once more before the lines and contours around them became clear and defined. This time, the house was slightly messier, and there was much less light because it was evening.

They were now in the foyer watching Hermione as she stormed in with Harry close on her heels. She whirled around abruptly, startling Harry. They argued about a previous encounter in Hermione’s office, and then watched in surprised as Hermione suggested that perhaps Harry harbored darker desires. 

_“I’m not accusing you of anything Harry. But I can’t help but wonder if you have ever seriously thought about doing some of the things we’ve played out.”_

_“You’re the one that asked me to take you without asking, and you have the nerve to call me an undercover rapist?”_

_“I didn’t mean it like that, it’s just that… sometimes it’s a bit disturbing how good you are at it,” Hermione said, biting her lip._

_“Well, you don’t have to worry about it anymore Hermione, I won’t be disturbing you again!”_

They watched him yell at her as he turned around and head towards the door.

_“Harry!” she called behind him._

Enthralled in the drama of the scene, they watched as Harry turned around once more, looking at her with contempt on his face. 

_“Stay away from me! I’ll contact you if I want to see you again!”_

Suddenly they were pulled out of the Pensieve and found themselves staring at Harry with stunned fascination until the Chief cleared his throat. 

“Well, ah, I guess that pretty much settles—” he started.

“I must say, it’s highly unusual,” the Mind Healer Johnson interrupted, “for couples take such extreme measures to engage in their… activities the way you two have!”

Harry dropped his eyes, his face red. “Yeah, I guess we took it too far.”  
“Well, if it were up to me, I’d put you both in the Mind Healing unit for further observation. There’s some serious dysfunction here!” she said, looking at him as if he were quite ill.

“But, as it were, it’s obvious that this is a consensual relationship, and none of our concern,” Healer Dixon said softly but firmly.

Harry gave her a small smile. She responded by rolling her eyes and turning quickly to head out, followed by the Mind Healer Johnson who walked behind her looking back at Harry as if she were afraid to turn her back on him. 

“Dixon,” the Chief called. 

“Yes?” she whispered as she paused to turn around, fixing her eyes once again on Harry, who blushed and looked away.

“I’ll need that assistant of yours to go to the room where my Aurors are waiting… understand?”

“I really don’t see the need for that. She’s medical staff, and sworn to the same confidentiality laws that we are!”

“But she is not a Healer and who knows where she’ll end up in a few years. If it’s all the same to you, I’d just like to make sure.”

“Oh, all right!” Healer Dixon said in resignation before turning back around and leaving. 

Harry was left alone with the Chief who stood looking down at him with disgust.

“Consensual or not, Harry, that’s the wife of your best mate and a fellow Auror. I don’t have to tell you how this could affect morale or your team’s ability to trust you.”

Harry looked back at him with sad eyes.

The Chief shook his head, continuing. “Then to come and find out you’re the reason why Mrs. Weasley’s security wards were broken…”

Harry stared back at him in silence.

“And you of all people, stealing a Death Eater’s mask from our confiscation vault to act out a freaky sex game!”

Finally, Harry nodded. “I understand why you have to fire me Chief, all I ask is that you keep it quiet, Hermione and Ron don’t need to be publicly humiliated because of my stupidity.”

“Oh, they won’t be, you can count on that. I’m not going to be the laughing stock of London because you couldn’t control your sick little fetish!”

The Chief began to pace in front of Harry’s bed, talking out loud to himself. “I can’t believe it, Harry Potter, of all people,” he said, stopping to look back at Harry. “You’re the one everyone was counting on, you were my star!”

“Did it ever occur to you that I don’t want to be a star?” Harry asked. “I just want to be an Auror.”

The Chief huffed. “Well, you’ve certainly changed my opinion of you.”

Harry’s face fell and he looked away.

“I’m going give you two options: resign on your own and keep quiet, or put in for a transfer to work another unit. I can’t run the risk of having you and Weasley running into each other.”

Harry appeared as if he were trying not to look too pleased. “Thanks, Chief! I love being an Auror, so the transfer it is. I’d rather not run into Ron right now anyway.” 

“Yeah, if I were you, I wouldn’t want to run into him either. How did this start anyway?”

Harry shrugged. “I can’t really say…”

“At any point someone could have walked in on you two and assumed you were attacking her, you know that?” 

Harry nodded.

“What I can’t figure out, is how do you know that you’re not taking it too far? What if you misjudge things and actually wind up forcing yourself on her, what would you do then?” 

Harry shrugged as much as he could. “I just know. We have an understanding.”

The Chief snorted. “Some understanding. That’s a dubious affair you got going on there. You should be careful; you’re playing a risky game,” he said. “Once they get you fixed up in here, you’ll put in for a transfer, you hear me?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I don’t want you working anywhere near London. I have some connections outside; any place in particular you’d like?”

“Somewhere rural… where there aren’t many people; the countryside I suppose,” Harry said.

The Chief nodded. “Sounds good, I’ll put in some inquiries and get back to you so we can hurry and get the paperwork started.”

“Thanks, Chief.” 

The Chief sighed. “Well, I’ve got four people to Obliviate, and then some fancy talking to do up at the station. I guess they were right about one thing when you signed up for the job,” he said looking bemused.

“What’s that?”

“You’re full of surprises.”

~~~*~~~

Hermione looked up in resentment as the Chief, Healer Dixon and the old Mind Healer entered her room.

The two women were studying her curiously, while the Chief looked quite embarrassed and shifty.

He shoved his hands in his robe pockets and finally looked up at her. “Mrs. Weasley, on behalf of the Department of Aurors, I’d like to apologize for—”

“Oh, thank Gods!!!” Hermione shouted, jumping up. “What took you so long?!”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, we just needed to be sure,” he said apologetically.

Hermione’s forehead wrinkled. “Fine, whatever, where’s Harry? Can I see him now?”

Healer Dixon nodded her head slowly. “You’ll be able to see him shortly.”

Hermione balled her fists at her sides. “Take me to him immediately!”

“We will momentarily; he’s being moved to a more private location at the moment,” Healer Dixon said.

“Great, I’ll just sit outside and wait. Can I have my purse back?” Hermione asked. 

“Perhaps it’d be better if you waited here. Here you go,” Healer Dixon said, bowing slightly as she handed Hermione her purse.

“Fine, but I’m starved, I’d like a snack or something. I’ll be right back,” Hermione said, pushing her way past Healer Dixon toward the door.

“Oh, no, Mrs. Weasley!” The Chief called after her.

But Hermione was already gone and made quick haste to get to the waiting room where there was kind looking older woman with a cart of healthy snack foods.

“One bar of Great Gobs of Granola, please,” she said reaching into her purse to pull out a galleon.

“You want to be careful, you only need to eat half; they work through you quick.”

Hermione tried not to snicker as she said, ‘thank you’, taking the bar and her change from the woman and then turning to go back to her former room.

She stilled suddenly when her eyes locked with a pair of piercing brown eyes glaring up at her from the couch by the wall. Hermione held her breath as Ginny stood up and quickly walked up to her, coming dangerously close to invading her personal space.

“You have some nerve being here!” Ginny said loudly, baring her teeth. 

Hermione took a breath before speaking, trying to stay calm. “Ginny, they brought me here, too.”

Ginny let out a mocking laugh. “For what?”

Hermione looked away for a moment. “For an examination.”

“Oh, did Ron kick your arse as well? Doesn’t look like it, not that I would disagree if he did.”

“Ginny, I know what you must be—”

“You don’t know anything about me, Hermione and neither does Harry. You’ve both fucked with the wrong Weasley!” she said, putting her finger in Hermione’s face.

Hermione drew back and shook her head. “Ginny, I know saying sorry isn’t enough but I am very sorry!” 

Ginny put her hand down, and considered Hermione for a moment before raising it again and slapping her hard across the face, which drew shocked gasps and whispers from everyone in the waiting room.

Hermione recovered quickly and stared back at Ginny in challenge, this time pulling out her wand if she dared to try it again. 

Instead Ginny shook her head. “You know what? I don’t even care! You can have him!”

Hermione stared back at her shock.

“You both thought you were so clever with those stupid charmed owls and disappearing at the same time. I’m not my brother, I’m not naive. I saw what was going on.” 

“But couples night—”

“I was putting on a charade just like you two were!” Ginny shouted. “I’ve suspected for awhile, I was just waiting for one of you to do something really stupid and you didn’t let me down.”

Hermione was speechless.

Ginny smirked. “Don’t worry though, I’ll make quick work of getting a divorce, in fact, I’ve already moved on,” she said triumphantly, flipping her hair.

Hermione could only manage a confused expression. “What?”

“You tell Harry he can have the damn house, I’m away too often to live there anyway… besides, my new lover hates London. She prefers Paris, so that’s where we’ll be residing.” 

“She?”

A guard came over, eyeing the two women with his wand drawn. “Is there a problem here?” he asked, looking at Hermione.

Hermione shook her head slowly. “No, no, sir. I was just leaving,” she said, about to turn around.

“You’d better,” Ginny whispered threateningly.

Hermione stared back at Ginny as if she were looking at a stranger before turning to look at the guard and walking away.

“Oh, and, Hermione,” Ginny called to her in mockingly affectionate tone. “Tell Harry that my solicitor will be in contact very soon!”

The guard stood in front of Ginny as if to prevent her from following Hermione. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to escort you outside, we don’t need that sort of trouble in here,” he said sternly.

Ginny looked at him as if he were daft. “Fine! There’s no one here worth visiting anyway!” she said before storming out.

~~~*~~~

When Hermione came around the corner, she had to take a moment to brace herself against the wall. She didn’t realize that she had been shaking until she felt the granola bar in her hand almost slip. She took several deep breathes before continuing to her room, where the young assistant was waiting.

“They’ve moved him to the thirteenth floor; I’ll take you there if you like,” she said almost apologetically.

Hermione smiled and quickly nodded her head. “Yes, please,” she said following the girl out.

They boarded a small lift that had been hidden by a glamour and when they got off of it, she stared in wonder as they started down a brilliant white hall with no rooms.

“There’s only one room on this floor, they reserve it for celebrities. You know, for privacy.”

“Of course,” Hermione whispered.

“Harry!” she said running over to him.

“Hermione,” Harry croaked, trying to smile.

Hermione looked at him and all of his bandages and bruises and began to cry. “Oh, Harry, I’m so sorry!”

“It’s okay, Hermione, the truth is out now; we don’t have to hide anymore,” he said, trying to reassure her.

Hermione nodded, tears still rolling down her face. “Does it hurt much?”

“Only when I breath or move,” Harry said, trying to give her a big smile that turned into a grimace as he felt his lip threatening to split again. 

“I deserved it,” he whispered.

“Don’t you say that! He almost killed you! No one deserves to be hurt like this. I have a good mind to—”

“To do what, Hermione? File charges?” 

They both let the implications of that statement and what they had just been through hang in the air for several moments. 

“Do you want some granola?” she offered.

Harry looked down at the bar and tried to shake his head. “Nah, it’s sort of hard to eat hard food,” he said, wincing.

Hermione began to cry again.

“Please stop, you’re not making me feel any better here. If you keep crying you’re going to make me cry, and it hurts to cry,” he said with a half-smile.

Hermione chuckled, wiping her tears off her face. “Salt in your wounds?” 

Harry nodded. 

“I’m sorry,” she said before letting out a frustrated groan. “It’s just not right, I cheated as well, and you’re the one who suffers for it!” 

“I can pay you back later if you like,” he said, trying to give her a sly smile. 

“Or now…” she said, one eyebrow going up.

“Hermione, you sneaky little minx, what are you talking about?”

“Well, you have this big room all to yourself, yes?” she smirked. 

“Yeah,” Harry said, smiling as much as he could. 

She wiggled her eyebrows at him and turned to walk back toward the door, casting a locking charm on it. 

“What are you doing?”

“Why I’m just making sure you get the best care we have to offer, Mr. Potter,” she said, raising an eyebrow

“Hermione, you can’t be serious? I can barely move,” he said.

“Oh? Does that apply to everything on your body?” she said, snaking her hand up his thigh.

“Well,” he said, taking a big gulp, watching her hand. “Oh… Hermione,” he moaned.

“Shhh, my name is Healer Granger, and you shouldn’t try to talk too much, you need your rest, you know,” she said, pulling his cock out and stroking it gently. 

As he hardened in her hands, she licked her lips, lowering her mouth right above him teasingly.

Harry let out a low hissing sound trying to push his hips up, whining at the pain.

“Now, now, don’t move. I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” she said.

“But it hurts… right here,” Harry said, staring down at his cock.

“I see. I suppose I’ll have to give that my special remedy,” she said with a smirk.

“Yeah? Whatever you can do, I’d appreciate it,” he said with exaggerated desperation.

Hermione lowered her mouth to the head of his cock but Harry reached up with his hand to stop her.

“You think we’re being watched?”

Hermione stood up straight and looked around and then shrugged. “Harry, they just combed through our most intimate memories, do you really care?” 

Harry laughed. “I’ve created a monster!”

Hermione giggled and leaned over to kiss his forehead.

“Now, Mr. Potter, don’t interrupt me again or you’ll miss out on my wonderful bedside manner.” 

“Yes Ma’am, I wouldn’t want to do that,” he said, closing his eyes as she lowered her mouth once more.

~~~*~~~

After three days of staying with Harry, Hermione finally went home, only to find that the furniture had tags on it, some things had her name on them, others had Ron’s name. Some of her personal art pieces and decorative trinkets were gone.

“Ron?” she asked, looking around for him.

She went upstairs, she saw a large trunk with her name on it off to the side near the wall at top of the stairs and several of her things were next to it. 

She walked cautiously into the bedroom and found Ron with his back turned, lifting items with his wand and lowering them into separate piles on the floor. He turned around and glanced at her before turning back around and resuming. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t touch your most personal things, but I expect you to pack them up quickly and be done with it,” he said.

She watched him in thick silence a few more minutes until he was done and then he turned around to stare at her. They stared at each other for what seemed like forever until Ron shook his head. 

“What did I do to you?” he asked, his stare unflinching.

“Nothing, Ron,” she whispered.

“Then why… why would you do that to me?”

“I didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did,” she said.

“Nothing like that ‘just happens’, ’Mione. How long?”

Hermione shook her head and looked down. “A few months.”

Ron gave her a humorless smile. “That long. Huh.”

She nodded slightly.

He took a deep breath. “So I guess he got cleared of rape then?”

“Ron, he wasn’t raping me,” she said.

“Of course not, he just dressed up like a Death Eater, tied you to our kitchen table, and held you down by the throat while he shagged your brains out… Oh, but you liked it, so I guess that makes it okay!”

Hermione’s face was flushed bright red. “I know you don’t understand, Ron!” 

“No, I don’t. What you guys were playing at is sick. You’ve never even hinted that you were into anything like that!”

“I know, I didn’t even know I was until…”

“Until you started fucking our best friend! Well, he’s your best friend now. I don’t have a best mate anymore. And I guess don’t have a wife either. You two deserve each other!” he said turning back around and packing a separate bag for himself.

“You’re moving out as well?” she asked.

“No, I’m not moving anywhere, you’ve left me with nothing, this house is the only thing I have! You’re the one moving out. I just don’t want to be here while you’re doing it!”

Hermione bit her lip and stood still watching him as he continued to pack.

“You know, I may not always be the sharpest blade in the bunch, and yeah, I still chew with my mouth open, and I probably talk about Quidditch too much, but I really did love you, Hermione. Still do, I guess. But don’t worry, I’ll work on that,” he said as he gathered a few more items. 

Turning around, he faced her again. “I shouldn’t even care… what you two do is your business but, remember, it may seem like it’s all fun and games… until someone gets hurt.”

“Ron, we’re in love,” Hermione said. “I know it hurts to hear that, but Harry would never hurt me.” 

Ron scoffed and headed for the door. “Right. I thought he’d never hurt me, either.”

“Ron!”

Ron stopped and turned around “What? There’s nothing else to say, is there?”

Hermione searched her thoughts and found he was right. There was nothing that could be said; nothing that could mend this. 

“I want you out by tomorrow,” he said flatly.

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. “Tomorrow? Ron, that’s unreasonable! Where do you expect me to go?”

“I don’t care, Hermione,” he said, turning back around.

He stopped at the doorway and hung his head, sighing.

“Look, I’m staying at my parents’. Take as long you like, just owl me when you’ve moved out,” he said, his voice thick with tears. 

“Thank you,” she said.

Ron didn’t answer, he just slammed the door and he was gone.

~~~*~~~

_Two months later…_

Harry put in for a transfer to the county of Winchfield. He liked it a lot, there was lots of grass, and the locals didn’t seem as impressed or star-struck with him as he was used to. He was free to walk about without being stared at and people pretty much kept to themselves.

Just as Ginny promised, there was a quick divorce, in which she demanded and received a sizable sum of Harry’s wealth in exchange for her silence. 

Ron also gave Hermione a quick divorce, requiring nothing but their home. Hermione had no problem allowing Ron to keep the house as she had already moved in with Harry. They didn’t plan to stay there for long though as they had already put a down payment on a modest country home near Harry’s new job. 

After weeks of deliberating, Hermione decided that she would much rather own a book shop than work for the Ministry any longer, so she made plans to purchase a small shop in Winchfield.

Two months after all hell had broken loose, they lay in bed together on one sunny Saturday morning, enjoying the comfort of waking up in each other’s arms. They were both startled when the morning paper smacked against the window loudly before falling with a thud below on their porch. Harry looked at Hermione and they both made a face. 

“Well, we both knew it was coming,” he said.

“Yes, we did,” she said in agreement with weary eyes.

“Shall I?” he asked.

“Yes, go ahead,” she sighed.

Harry reluctantly rose from bed. 

“Bring me some juice while you’re down there, please.”

“Pumpkin or orange?”

Hermione smiled. “Surprise me.”

He nodded his head and when he returned he had both the _Prophet_ and a glass of orange juice in his hands. He handed Hermione the orange juice and slid back into bed beside her, opening up the _Prophet_ so that she could read it beside him. 

They both shook their heads when they read the title.

_**Legacies of War:  
The Broken Lives of the Veterans of the War Against Darkness ** _

by Rita Skeeter

They both had been dreading the arrival of that day’s _Prophet_ , knowing the feature was going to be about them. Skeeter had been interviewing everyone they knew after unsuccessfully trying several times to reach them.

They both suspected that Skeeter was less interested in ‘veterans of the war’ than the scandal of the simultaneous Weasley and Potter divorces and Harry and Hermione’s new relationship.

They read in silence, leaning against each other for support. 

The piece detailed the events of the war, the roles of Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny in the final battle, and their subsequent marriages and careers. It actually appeared to be a thoughtful and respectable report until they reached the end. 

They both groaned as Skeeter described Harry’s ‘self-exile’ into rural Britain after breaking up the marriage of his best friends, and Hermione’s supposed forced resignation after a reported failed attempt at revamping the Ministry’s Magical Creatures division. Skeeter went on to say that Hermione and Harry were both trying to rebuild some sense of normalcy by playing house in the country and were unavailable for comment, probably because they were both ashamed of their hurtful love affair.

“What does she mean failed attempt? I single handedly cleaned up the Dragon trade and I’m the one responsible for most of the recent slew of elf bills that have gone through!”

“Hermione, did you really think Skeeter would report the truth?”

She pursed her lips and they continued to read. 

Harry’s mouth dropped in shock as Skeeter disclosed Ginny’s new relationship with teammate, Sarah Vaughn, who she was now living in an expansive villa right outside of Paris. She penned them as Quidditch’s new ‘royal couple’ and that it was expected that they would be married within the year. 

“I still can’t believe she’s gay,” Harry said, shaking his head.

“Maybe she’s bisexual?” Hermione offered. Harry frowned.

They both read on in thick silence about Ron’s new promotion to Captain and the frequent sightings of him out on the town with a young blond elf advocate named Christina Stevenson. Skeeter hinted that although the two insisted that they were just friends, there was a ‘bright glimmer’ in the eyes of Ms. Stevenson when Ron’s name was mentioned.

Hermione raised an eyebrow at that and shook her head.

“Well, it wasn’t so bad I guess,” Harry said.

“I suppose… I have some news as well,” she said, taking a deep breath before looking at him. 

“What?” Harry asked, sitting up.

“I wanted to wait until we read the article before I told you, I thought it might cheer you up a bit,” she said, smiling.

“What is it?” Harry asked with a curious smile.

“Well… Healer Dixon owled me a few weeks ago,” Hermione said.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Harry asked, his brow furrowing.

“Nothing, she just said she wanted to keep in touch with me, to make sure I was all right.” 

“Well, are you?”

Hermione nodded. “I went in for an examination yesterday…”

“What for?”

“I’ve been feeling a bit nauseous lately and…”

“Yes?” Harry said excitedly.

“We’re pregnant!” Hermione blurted out.

“Are you serious!? You mean, I’m going to be… I’m going to be dad?”

“Yes Harry, yes!”

“That’s brilliant Hermione,” he said, hugging her tight and lifting her up off the bed and whirling her around in a circle before settling her on her feet in front of him.

“Well, I’ll have to make an honest woman of you,” he said, smiling.

“Well, if you insist,” she replied, looking up at him in anticipation.

“I most certainly do,” he said, getting down on one knee.

“Hermione Granger, will you do me the honor of being my wife?” he asked with adoration in his eyes.

Hermione smiled down at him. “Of course, Harry, yes!” 

Harry’s stood up immediately, pulling her into a tight hug. “I’m sorry, I don’t have a ring, but I’ll fix that soon enough.”

Hermione shook her head. “That’s okay, Harry, it’s not about that.”

“I’m going to get the biggest one your hand can hold!”

Hermione’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t like big rings.”

Harry shrugged. “Well, whatever you like,” he said as he leaned in to kiss her.

~~~*~~~

They were married a few weeks later, in a small private ceremony at a local Muggle tavern, conducted by Professor McGonagall, who both gave them stern advice about the importance of fidelity and the blessing of second chances.

Although they invited all of their family and friends only Hermione’s parents, Hagrid, Neville, and Luna showed. Hermione’s parents looked on with skepticism and a forced pleasantness that made Harry uncomfortable. 

He did catch Mr. Granger sizing him up several times throughout the ceremony and subsequent dinner. Harry smiled appreciatively when he felt Hermione squeeze his hand when she saw him staring off. He was trying not think about the fact that the only real family he had ever known was understandably absent. Still, he managed to sum up the nerve to ask Neville how the Weasleys were doing, to which Neville responded awkwardly that they were doing as well as to be expected. 

“I know you’ve lost so much, but I’ll make it up to you Harry,” Hermione whispered once they arrived at the front gate of their yard. 

“You don’t need to make up anything to me, just having you makes it all worth it,” he said, looking down at her lovingly.

“Well, you have me, for better or worse, every day for the rest of your life,” she smiled up at him.

Harry smiled. “And when I’m at my worst, you can always pretend I’m someone else,” he said lifting her into his arms and carrying her to the door of their new home.

**The Fluffy End**

[A/N: Well, that’s the happy ending we all want for our couple. It was always my intention to have a happy ending to this story, but my Muse does what it wants to, and if I have to be honest with myself, there is another ending to this story.

 

The second ending to this story is below.

 

PLEASE do NOT read any further if you like happy endings! The following will not be happy or fun or sexy (well some may like it). 

If you do decide to read on, please be aware that there will be an additional warning that has not been used in this fic previously.

YOU HAVE BEEN SUFFICIENTLY WARNED!! 

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The Second Ending to **A _Dubious_ Affair**

 

 **New Warnings:** Non-consensual sex i.e. **Rape** , Dark!Harry

 

**Chapter 10: Careful What You Wish For**

 

Hermione felt like she was floating on air as her new husband lifted her into his arms, carrying her to their front door. He skillfully muttered something, unlocking the front door and causing it to fly open. 

“Harry! What did I tell you about that?” she said, looking up at him in fake disapproval. “Did you ever register yourself?” she asked.

Harry shook his head. “Nah, Chief let it slide, said he could imagine worse people with the gift. And it is a special occasion,” he said as he carried her inside.

“Shall I carry you up the stairs, m’lady?” he asked in very formal tone.

Hermione beamed. “Yes, sir. I’d like that very much.”

He smiled down at her as he carefully carried her up the stairs to their bedroom. He laid her down on the bed, stood up and began to undress.

Hermione licked her lips and rose to her knees, pulling her dress over her head and then her bra.

“What would you like to role-play tonight, Mrs. Potter?” he asked with a devilish smile.

“Actually, I was hoping we could make love,” she said, smiling up at him.

“That’s boring. We’re married now, we can do anything we want, and you pick that,” he teased.

Hermione felt a twinge of regret and pain at his remark, but decided that she wasn’t going to let that ruin their wedding night. Instead, she looked at him daringly. 

“All right then, how about you pretend to be some sort of creature,” she offered.

Harry wrinkled his forehead. “That doesn’t sound sexy,” he said.

“Wait, you didn’t hear me out… how about you pretend to be some sort of Dark creature, like a vampire, or werewolf. I’ll be sleeping unawares when you come to claim me,” she said, dramatically lifting the back of her hand to her forehead in mock distress.

“Interesting,” he said, moving in closer. “How about that I play that creep, Fenrir Greyback?” he said with a wolfish grin and a dark gleam in his eye that for some reason made Hermione slightly uncomfortable. 

She inwardly cringed as she recalled Greyback leering at her when they were being held at Malfoy Manor.

“Harry, wait a minute,” she said, looking at him, sitting up straight. 

“What?” he said, taking a seat beside her. 

“You know, I’ve been thinking about the way we play. I love it, I wouldn’t change a thing about it… but, I think it’d be smart if I came up with a safe word, just in case,” she said cautiously.

“Just in case of what, Hermione?” Harry asked, reaching out to stroke her face.

“Well, what if one night I’m not in the mood or something is wrong, I need a way to tell you, so that you’ll know I’m being serious when I say no.”

“Nonsense, since when? That’s part of the fun. You like being overpowered, right?” he said, moving his hand down to her neck and squeezing it.

“Yeah, I do, but I mean it’s just for in case it gets out of hand, so no one gets hurt.”

“But I thought you liked it when I hurt you a little bit,” he said, squeezing harder, pushing her onto her back. 

Hermione pushed up, struggling against him, to which Harry responded by resting his entire weight squarely on top of her. 

“Harry, stop, I’m being serious!” she said, reaching up to push him off.

Harry looked down at her in amusement and chuckled. “Come on, Hermione, you can fight harder than that,” he challenged.

Hermione shook her head and began to try to throw her body up in protest against his, to no avail. “No… listen to me, Harry! This is exactly what I’m talking about. I’m being serious right now! Stop it!”

Harry slapped her across the face hard, drawing a pained cry from her and then he muttered something under his breath. The next minute Hermione felt her arms being pulled over her head and then rendered immobile when invisible bonds bound her wrists above her head. 

“Harry please… oh, gods, please, I’m serious! Please stop it!”

Harry’s mouth closed over her in a brutal kiss and she bit his lip hard, drawing blood and eliciting laughter from Harry as he sat up and wiped the blood away from his mouth. He reached down and pinched one of her nipples harshly, making her cry out as he continued to twist it brutally between his fingers. 

Hermione began to try to kick, and Harry made a tut tut sound, pushing his knee between her legs.

“I would bind your legs, but I actually like it when you kick,” he snarled as he bent down to sink his teeth into her neck.

“Harry!!!” she screamed, writhing as much as she could under him trying to make it as difficult for him as possible. 

Harry paused, and raised his head staring down at her, his eyes wild and his lips curled into a cruel smile. “Hermione, you ever hear of that Muggle story…”

“Please… please,” she begged, her face red and tear streaked.

“The one about the little boy who cried wolf?” he continued, looking at her but not really as he reached down to tear her knickers off, pulling at them hard so that it left welts on her skin. 

“Harry, please, no… please,” she continued to cry. 

“Well, you’re my little girl who cried wolf,” he said as he entered her roughly. 

Hermione looked up in horror as she saw Harry’s face, it was as if he were in some sort of trance and her tears and protests only seemed to be turning him on more. 

“You know you want it… this is how you like it, right?” he said as he drove himself into her harder once more.

Hermione shook her head and tried to turn her face away from him. He grabbed her face in his hand and squeezed, digging his nails into her cheeks. “You need… someone to… ah… make the decision for you… and tell you that you have no choice in the matter at all. And that’s exactly what I’m going to do…” he panted as he continued to violate her.

He didn’t stop until he approached climax, calling out her name as he spilled himself into her. He lay on top of her for a few minutes before rising and undoing her binds.

Hermione punched him square in the jaw. 

“Oww!!” Harry groaned, holding his jaw in one hand.

She jumped up and ran for the door, but found herself being thrown back as if repelled once she reached it. She turned around and looked up to see Harry leering down at her with a small smile on his face. 

“Come back to bed, Hermione,” he said. 

Hermione began to cry, frozen to her place on the floor. Harry climbed out of bed and lifted her up in his arms. She felt powerless as she looked up at him and when he laid her back onto the bad, she turned away from him to face the wall, curling up into herself. She couldn’t stop the tears, they seemed to flow endlessly as she tried to make sense of what just happened. 

“You have quite a right hook, there,” she heard him say. 

It all felt surreal and she could feel herself trembling as her heart pounded in her ears. When Harry reached over to put his arm around her, she flinched. She felt herself being pulled back closer to him. He was rubbing his sweaty forehead against her skin, and it made her think of the one time, the only time, they had ever really made love, and that made her cry harder. 

“Don’t cry, love. That’s part of the fun, isn’t it? Saying no, and not being heard?” 

Hermione stiffened, balling a piece of the sheet in one of her fists. 

“You raped me… you really raped me, Harry,” she said.

“No, I didn’t…”

She turned around, showing him her tear stained face. Harry frowned and pulled her closer to him. He leaned in, tracing her tears with his lips, kissing them away. 

“And what if I did? Who would believe you now?” he whispered.

Hermione gaped back at him in disbelief.

“You said it yourself, you owe me. I almost went to Azkaban for you,” he said, glaring at her.  
“Harry… I thought you loved me,” she whispered, searching his face.

His glare quickly changed into a wide-eyed admiring stare. “Oh I do, Hermione. I really do. I love you more than anything. That’s why I’m going give you what you need, forever, until death do us part,” he said, smiling again, and pulling her close. 

“Your Chief told me… he said that people were betting you’d snap,” she said, covering her mouth in shock.

Harry laughed. “You think I’ve snapped? I haven’t snapped, Hermione. You’ve freed me. At first, I felt guilty about it, but now… now, I finally feel like I can be myself and know that I’ll be accepted… you’ll always love me, no matter what.” 

Hermione felt new tears forming in her eyes as she felt terror grip her, her mind racing of what she could do to escape. 

“Shh, stop crying… please, it’s not good for the baby. This is how it’s going to be, and if you try to run, I’ll hunt you down and bring you back,” he said, looking down at her. 

Hermione stared in him in shock. 

Harry chuckled. “What am I saying? You’d probably like that, wouldn’t you?” he said giving her a cheeky grin before kissing her on the forehead and wrapping both of his arms around her. 

Hermione froze, listening to his heartbeat, feeling his strong arms holding her tight against his chest. With her eyes glued to the growing darkness around her, she realized with dawning horror that any efforts to report that her husband, Harry Potter, was raping her, would be viewed as dubious, at best.

**The End**


End file.
